


only the brave

by mamalovesherbagels



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: You'll see how, also the bomber at the end of season 2 doesn't exit lol, chimney gets cancer, he's kind of an idiot about it, my poor precious baby, so buck's leg will be spared, want to be upfront about that so you can avoid if triggering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 42,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25409548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamalovesherbagels/pseuds/mamalovesherbagels
Summary: He doesn't think much of it at first. Until he finds the lump and all of the pieces fall into place in his mind. A similar curse to the one that afflicted his mother. He doesn't want to do that again-- doesn't want to relive all the memories that he doesn't have to. So no one besides Hen needs to know, right?
Relationships: Howie "Chimney" Han & Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Maddie Buckley/Howie "Chimney" Han
Comments: 40
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Set at the end of season 2 when Chim is temporary captain and he and Maddie are taking a moment. Also, the bomber doesn't exist so Buck's leg will be spared!!

He doesn’t think much of it at first.

He has a lot of nightmares, and he’s under a lot of stress, so the occasional night sweating and the more-than-occasional tiredness don’t seem too odd or out of the ordinary to him.

He starts to get mildly concerned when they’re getting changed at the end of shift and Buck comments that he looks even skinnier than normal. It’s Buck, so it could just be him being silly, but what if he has lost a little weight? He hasn’t been trying to, and with all the stress he’s been under lately he probably hasn’t been eating great but… he doesn’t think he’s under eating, if at all, enough to lose any amount of noticeable weight.

Huh. Maybe Buck’s just being stupid.

But then that night when he’s showering he finds the lump under his armpit and he just knows. It’s painless, which he knows likely means one thing, especially since it’s in his genes.

Cancer.

It all makes too much sense and he’s kicking himself for not seeing it earlier. He calls his doctor’s office and makes an appointment for the next week on his day off, falls asleep, and then wakes up sweating.

.

The doctor agrees it’s likely lymphoma, but they have to do a biopsy to be sure, just as is expected. She’s kind and assures him that most kinds of lymphoma, even if they’ve spread pretty far throughout the body, have encouragingly high survival rates.

Yeah, it’s not like he didn’t already know that from spending an inordinate amount of time on google since he found the lump, but he’s not going to be a dick to her. Not when she’s trying to make him feel better.

He has the biopsy scheduled for the next week, and then it should only take a few days after that for the results, so he supposes he should probably just try and relax as much as possible during his last week and a half or so without a cancer diagnosis.

But he’s temporary captain, everyone is frustrated with him and he can’t stop measuring himself up against Bobby, so even without the whole cancer thing, relaxation wouldn’t come easily.

.

His appointment, the one where he’s likely going to be told he has cancer is the next day. He’s tempted to go by himself, not wanting to include anyone until he knows for sure, but all he can think about is the day he was there when his mom was diagnosed with cancer, and all those terrible memories and he knows he is going to need someone there to do the all the important medical listening in case he ends up completely losing it. And to hold his hand.

“Hen,” he says quietly, and it’s hard not to burst into tears at her completely unsuspecting face, her bright eyes he knows are going to shortly be crying as he leads her into the captain’s office.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” she asks, raising an eyebrow and Chimney’s heart is pounding so hard about his chest he heavily considers backing out of it and coming up with some excuse for why he pulled her aside.

But she’s his best friend; he knows he has to tell her.

“Hen, I have an appointment tomorrow,” he whispers, staring down at the floor, “a doctor’s appointment. I had a biopsy a few days ago, and I… they think I have lymphoma. I’m getting the results tomorrow and I think, I think I need you to come with me.”

The silence makes his chest hurt. He finally dares himself to look up at her after about thirty seconds, and the sobs are then coming out of him before he can even process the urge. 

Hen quickly follows suit, weeping as she pulls him into her arms, hugging him tighter than she ever has before.

“Of course, honey,” she coos through the tears, “of course I’ll come with you. I love you so much, so, so much. I just… why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t… maybe I wasn’t ready for it to be real,” he admits, burying his head in her shoulder, “but it is real, or at least it probably is and I just… I just need you, Hen.”

“You’ve got me,” she assures him, kissing the top of his head, “you’ve got me, Chim.”

.

Hen puts on her best brave face for him, a firm arm around his shoulders when the doctor solemnly tells him what he’s pretty much known for weeks.

He has lymphoma.

He has cancer.

He doesn’t cry; maybe he got that all out of his system yesterday.

Hen, however, starts sobbing again the moment they get back to his apartment. She’s apologizing, trying to say that she’s sorry for making this about her when it’s about him, but he just shakes his head and holds her. He’d never want to make her feel like she has to stuff down her own emotions just for this sake-- he’s had weeks to adjust to the fact that this would be his new reality; Hen’s only had 24 hours.

“It’s a good thing Bobby’s coming back next week,” he finally says once Hen’s sobs have died down, “because I have to start chemo and I won’t be able to be captain, let alone a firefighter at all… at least for a few months.”

He sighs, he supposes it could be worse-- no, he KNOWS it could be worse. They have to do some scans to see where, if anywhere, the cancer has spread to, but even if it’s all over his body the doctor is confident that after a few months of chemo he’ll be in remission.

It’s nowhere near as harrowing a prognosis as his mother’s had been, which makes him feel guilty for reasons he can’t quite articulate.

He’ll likely have a terrible, miserable summer, be cancer free in the fall, and hopefully be able to work his strength back up enough to return to the LAFD by winter. It really could be so, so much worse.

“What’s a good excuse for why I need to take off work?”

“What do you mean?” Hen asks, not liking where she can tell this is going at all.

“I’ve been through this all before,” he sighs, “with my mom and I-I can’t… I can’t do it again, not anymore than I already have to.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, desperately trying to hold onto the semblance of calm she’s only just been able to get back.

“I don’t want the attention, I don’t want… I don’t want it. I don’t want the sympathy, all the people always coming by, I don’t want any of that… I’m… I’m not going to tell anyone besides you.”

“Chimney,” she gasps, grabbing both of his hands in hers, “no, honey, you need… you need us. You can’t just not tell everyone, you-- you need your family now more than ever.”

“You’re my family,” he shrugs.

“I am,” she nods, “but I’m not ALL of your family.”

“Hen, look… please? I know you don’t get it, but I… please? It’s not your decision to make.”

“It’s not,” she sighs after a long, heavy silence, folding her arms across her chest, “fine. But know that I hate it and don’t approve in the slightest, and that I’m going to try and talk you out of it every chance I get.”

“I can live with that.”

“And,” she continues, putting a hand up to caution him, “you need to let me tell Karen. Just Karen, I promise, and I’ll make sure she won’t tell anyone. It’s just… you are absolutely stupid if you don’t think that I’m going to be taking care of you through this and going to as many of your doctor’s appointments as possible. So my wife needs to know what’s going on so she doesn’t freak out.”

“...Okay,” he agrees reluctantly. He doesn’t like it, but he knows it’s already unfair enough to ask her to lie to their coworkers, and it would be terrible of him to expect her to keep such a big secret from her wife.

“For the record, I think you’re being stupid,” she can’t help but jab, “but I love you, so I’ll respect your wishes.”

“I love you, too,” he murmurs, cuddling into her side a bit, “can you… can you stay tonight? Just for tonight, if you don’t mind, I--”

“Of course I’m staying tonight,” she replies, as if he’s crazy for not just assuming that she already would without him asking, “I’m going to stay and hold you and order you takeout and let you talk if you need to.”

“I love you,” he repeats, “I don’t know how I got so lucky to get to have you as my best friend.”

“I love you so much, Chimney,” she whispers, tears in her eyes again, “so, so much. We’re going to get you through this, and I’m going to be there for you every step of the way.”


	2. Chapter 2

Hen is running her fingers through his hair. It feels nice, and it also makes him wonder how much longer he’s going to have any hair.

He’s due to start chemo the next week, so this is his last week of feeling mildly physically miserable with untreated cancer before translating into feeling severely miserable because his cancer is being treated. It’s common knowledge that chemotherapy is generally a terrible experience even though it often saves lives, but it’s another thing to be staring it down yourself after watching your mother suffer through it.

It’s also his last week as a firefighter paramedic for God knows how long. He’s trying to soak it all in, trying to enjoy every second of it-- even the less than glamorous parts. It’s easy for him to ignore the fatigue and low grade fever that comes and goes in favor of gratitude.

It’s not as easy for Hen to ignore those things.

He can’t say he really blames her. If it were the other way around, he would be watching her like a hawk, too. And it does feel nice to have her looking after him, to have her cuddling him and making sure he drinks enough water. It’s just that he’s pretty sure Bobby is already a little suspicious of his excuse for why he’s going to take leave of absence from work, and he knows that it’s highly unlikely Hen’s hovering has gone unnoticed by their captain.

It’s not that it’s a BAD excuse, not at all. He asked for time to look after his mental health after all the trauma of the stabbing and Jason-gate, and Bobby had granted his request immediately. It’s probably the less than confident delivery of it that made Bobby scrunch up his nose a bit, and look at him like he wasn’t 100% he bought it.

It’s hard to lie to his friends. It’s especially hard to lie to his friend who just also happens to be his boss.

He supposes he should get used to the lying, though, considering next week he plans on falling off the face of the earth in regards to everyone except his doctors, nurses, Hen, and then Karen by extension. Poor Karen who couldn’t stop crying when she visited the other night. He hates it, hates that part of all of it especially. He’s seen it all before with his mom’s cancer and that’s the bulk of why he wants to lie and to hide, because it brings back all the memories and just makes the fact that his mom didn’t make it in the end sting that much more.

He still hasn’t even mentioned to Buck and Eddie that he’s going to go out on leave and he plans on putting it off to the last possible minute. It’s a dick move and he knows it but he just wants to soak up the little bits of normalcy that he has left. Before he’s sick and exhausted from chemo and hiding from the vast majority of his loved ones and not working and splitting all his time between home and doctor’s offices.

“You’re still a little warm,” Hen sighs, brushing her hand against his forehead.

“S’normal, Hen, you know that.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Eh, fair enough. He doesn’t really love it either.

He coughs a bit and Hen frowns. The cancer had spread from the lymph nodes in his armpit to his chest wall, but he’s lucky in the sense that it’s the only place it’s spread to.

“You’re alright,” Hen murmurs, rubbing his back.

“Hen, you’re going to make everyone suspicious with all your fussing over me,” he whines quietly, but he makes no effort to un-entangle himself from her in the slightest.

She just shrugs and gives him A Look, a look he’s seen many times in the last week or so which he knows translates to, “I think you’re an absolute fucking idiot for insisting on hiding this from everyone and I’m kind of hoping they all figure it out anyway even though they’ll burn me on the stake for not telling them myself.”

He knows he’s putting her in a really difficult spot, and it’s not like he’s not endlessly appreciative of her respecting his wishes, even if she hates them.

He also knows he’s potentially putting Buck in a really difficult spot, because of Maddie.

Oh, the Maddie of it all.

The woman he loves.

He feels extra guilty for hiding this from her, and he knows Buck’s going to mention Chimney’s leave of absence from work to her, because it’s common sense that he would. And he knows that even though they’re taking a moment, a moment that he continually becomes more and more convinced is actually code for separated forever, he knows that she still cares. So he knows that she’s going to have questions. Questions that Buck is not going to be able to answer for her because he’s not giving anyone besides Hen any of the actual answers.

He wonders if she’ll try to reach out at all once he starts ignoring everyone else’s texts and calls and not showing up to any 118 family events. He wonders if she’ll try to text or call him, and he wonders how badly it will hurt to ignore her if he does.

But it’s not his responsibility, and HE is not her responsibility, especially after he (unknowingly, but still) gave her ex-husband easy access to kidnapping her. He already feels guilty enough and the last thing he wants is to make her feel obligated to be there for him because he got dealt a shitty card with his health.

He hasn’t talked to her in months, and he knows it’s just going to turn into even more months of silence… so there’s a part of him that wants to call her. To check in with her directly instead of trying to go through Buck who may or may not be completely honest about how his sister is doing. He wants to hear her voice, wants to let her know he’s still her friend even if she’s too traumatized to ever date him again…

But he knows that’s selfish, incredibly, incredibly selfish. He can’t just pop back into her life knowing that he’s going to disappear from it again in a week.

He misses her so bad, and he knows he’s only going to miss her more and more once the treatment starts and he’s tired and nauseous and in pain and just wanting her to be there to hold his hand.

But he’s not going to let himself be selfish. He’s just not.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Hen asks, rubbing his back some more.

He looks around to make sure it’s still just the two of them before answering.

“Maddie,” he admits with a frown.

“You know--”

“I’m not going to tell her,” he cuts her off, because it’s not the first time they’ve discussed it and he knows exactly what Hen is going to say.

“You’re stupid,” she says flatly.

He just nods and tells her that he knows.

“Chim, you doing alright?” Bobby asks, gesturing to his head in Hen’s lap as he walks over.

“Yeah, just a little tired is all,” he mumbles, not even looking at his captain as he says it.

“If you say so,” Bobby sighs, and Chimney flinches at the obvious disappointment in the older man’s voice.

“I just… I don’t mean to pry,” Bobby continues, and well, Chimney thinks Bobby sort of does but he’s not going to pry, “but I’m not just your captain, but your friend, too. So if you ever want to talk outside of work in a strictly friend-to-friend way, I’m there for you, okay?”

“Okay,” Chimney agrees, familiar guilt sitting in his stomach at the lie.

He closes his eyes after that, wanting to sleep both to get away from all the emotions of having cancer and hiding it, and because he’s legitimately exhausted.

The bell goes off just as he’s starting to drift to sleep.

Yeah, maybe he’s not going to miss that part of work all that much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record I agree with Hen that Chim is being a dumbass. But he's traumatized from his mother's cancer so I'll forgive him for it. But he's still being an idiot.


	3. Chapter 3

.

It’s his first day of his leave from work and he starts chemo the next morning.

The silent emptiness of his apartment hurts.

He’s known this was coming, but it’s an entirely different thing to have to feel it, to actually have to face it head on. 

And it sucks.

He sighs, biting his lip as he glances down at his phone lighting up with yet another text message notification. Presumably from Buck or Eddie who have been texting and calling him nonstop since he casually mentioned it was his last day at work for a while the night before. He thinks there’s a solid chance they thought he was just messing with them until they showed up to work this morning only to have Bobby confirm his absence.

Only a matter of time before Maddie knows, then… not that it really matters, he supposes. He’s not going to see her, not going to drag her into this, no matter how much he misses her and thinks the sound of her voice might be able to soothe him.

.

He told her she didn’t have to come, especially since she’s taking off work to be with him the next day at chemo, but of course Hen shows up at his door after her shift ends.

“You have a wife and kid, you know,” he jokes weakly.

“Yeah, and I also have a best friend with cancer. Now let me in.”

Sighing, he knows he doesn’t really have a choice, so he does. She asks him how he’s feeling and he shrugs and says he’s tired, even though he knows that’s not really what she was getting at.

“How are you?” he asks carefully, noting the tension in her stance, how her lips are pressed into a firm line.

“Everyone keeps asking me about you,” she sighs, shaking her head, “they might not have no idea what is actually happening with you, but they all can tell I know more than I’m letting on. Especially Bobby, but… he can’t pester me as much as Eddie and Buck can about it because he’s the captain and professionalism and all that. Bobby can only politely ask if I’ve heard from you and if you’re alright, at least while we’re at work. I’m sure the first time I see him outside of work when he’s just my friend and not my captain… he’s gonna interrogate me, Chim, and I’m not going to know what to say.”

“Hen… thank you, thank you for helping me keep it under wraps,” is all he can think to say in response, and he knows it’s nowhere near adequate.

“I’m not going to say you’re welcome, because you’re not,” she says with a bit of a huff, “but I’m not going to go against your wishes, even--”

“Even though you think they’re stupid wishes, yes, I know,” he finishes with the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Idiot,” she mutters, before stepping forward to hug him, “so, so stupid. Love you so much it hurts, though.”

.

“Have you talked to Chimney at all recently?”

“Why are you asking me that?” Maddie asks, a bit defensively because Buck has generally learned by this point in time not to mention her sort of almost ex-boyfriend.

“Is that a no?”

“It’s an I’m asking you why,” she responds with an eye roll, but she can’t deny the pool of worry starting to form within her stomach, because if Buck is bringing him up, maybe something is wrong and--

“He’s taking some time of work,” Buck admits with a sigh, sinking down on the couch next to her, “and before you ask, I don’t know why, or for how long. I mean, Bobby knows because he has to approve it, but he can’t tell us because confidentiality, and Hen, Hen DEFINITELY knows something but she’s not saying a single word, so… I don’t know. I thought maybe if he was struggling or something he might have reached out to you.”

“...No,” she whispers after a moment, digging her nails into her palms, “I-I haven’t heard from him since… what do you mean, some time off work? He’s not… like a few weeks, or…?”

“I dunno, Mads, maybe longer. Bobby phrased it as an official leave of absence, so probably for at least a month.”

She goes quiet for a bit, looking up at the ceiling as she tries to gather her thoughts. She hates it, but the tears pool up in her eyes anyway because something might be wrong and she doesn’t know if he’d want to hear from her, and maybe if something is wrong it has to do with her? Well, more specifically her ex-husband, and the fallout of the stabbing…

“Maddie? You okay?”

“You really have no idea what’s going on?” she asks.

“No,” Buck shakes his head, “none. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you but I only brought it up because I thought maybe you knew something I didn’t.”

“No,” she sniffles, wiping at her eyes, “no, I know nothing.”

.

Chimney sleeps through most of his first chemo session, which is a relief for Hen. But it also feels a bit like the calm before the storm, because Hen figures this is the only time it will be so easy for him and it’ll get harder and harder with the cumulative treatments.

He wakes up with about an hour left to go groggy and feeling “weird” but relatively alright. She cuddles him and strokes his hair, telling him that it’s okay and that she’s there over and over again.

“Don’t have to cuddle if you don’t want,” he mumbles, but she just laughs, because he’s as attached to her as is physically possible with an IV in his arm.

“Want to,” she hums, “anything that will help keep you a little more comfortable.”

“Mmm. Love you.”

“I know, I know. I’m the best.”

The car ride back to his apartment is uneventful, but as soon as she parks, it hits. He’s rushing out of the car and she’s confused until she finds him bent over a bush, throwing up.

“Oh, Chim,” she sighs.

She knew it was coming, but it still doesn’t make it any easier to witness. She rushes over to wrap an arm around his waist as he doesn’t seem the most steady on his feet at the moment.

“I got you, I got you. It’s okay, let it out. I’m here.”

“H-Hen,” he whimpers when his body calms, turning back to look at her with tearful eyes, “sorry.”

“Hey, no,” she shakes her head, wiping at the corners of his mouth with her sleeve (which strikes Chimney as extraordinarily kind), “nothing to be sorry for. I signed up for this, remember? You can’t help it. Now let’s get you inside, okay? Get you all cozy in bed.”

“Love you,” he whines, leaning against her heavily.

“I love you more. It’s all going to be okay.”

.

The next morning at work Hen feels like she’s going to completely lose it if someone so much as looks at her the wrong way.

She knows the day after chemo is often horrific, worse than the day of treatment itself, but she could only get one day off work. Bobby would probably be more than willing to work flexibly with her on her scheduling if he knew the truth, but he doesn’t.

Thankfully, Karen’s job allows her to work from home a good deal of the time. She has to physically go into work that morning for meetings but as soon as she’s done she’s going over to Chimney’s apartment and staying with him until Denny gets out of school. 

Still. She doesn’t like the thought of Chimney being alone at all right now, and she feels herself getting more and more frustrated with his insistence on secrecy. It’s not her place to tell, she knows that, and she knows there’s so much pain and trauma there left from his mother’s own battle with cancer. She understands.

Understanding doesn’t make the fact that he just had chemotherapy and no one is currently there with him any easier to deal with, though. He had been asleep when she left, probably still is asleep since he hasn’t responded to the text she sent him yet, but… she should be there. _Someone_ should be there.

“Hen, you okay?” Bobby asks, raising his eyebrows, “you seem… stressed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighs, looking anywhere but Bobby’s face, “just… tired. Was up all night with-- Denny. Denny’s sick. Kids are always getting sick, you know? Germs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *deep sigh*


	4. Chapter 4

.

Karen is a terrible, horrific liar.

Normally, this is not a bad character trait for the woman you’re in holy matrimony with to have. It is, however, incredibly inconvenient when the two of you are trying to keep a huge, catastrophic secret.

Hen is _not_ thrilled about this 118 family brunch party for many reasons. She knows she’s going to be not-so-subtly grilled with questions about Chimney, her wife can’t be there because she can’t lie, and she can’t even get too tipsy to deal with it all because then she’ll be more likely to just blurt it all out.

It’s a good thing Denny is away on a boy scouts camping trip so she doesn’t have to coach him on a lie, though, at least not this time. Karen has “the stomach bug” that Hen told the 118 Denny had a few days ago, is what she’s going to tell them all when they inevitably ask about her wife’s absence.

At least Karen being a bad lair means someone is free to babysit Chimney, even though he of course swears up and down that they don’t have to be with him every single free second that they have.

Yeah, fuck that. If Karen isn’t going to be there to bear this god awful party with her AND Denny isn’t even around? Of course she’s going to be with their very nice friend who just had his first round of chemo a few days ago.

After taking a deep breath, Hen steps into Athena’s house and then immediately wants to chicken out and leave when her eyes land on none other than Miss Maddie Buckley. Of course. She’s just _coincidentally_ decided to show up to her first 118 extended family gathering since her and Chim decided to “take a moment” right after Chimney falls off the face of the earth. Purely a coincidence. Hen’s SURE she’s not there as yet another person determined to get answers out of her.

.

“Tis I, your babysitter for the day,” Karen announces cheerfully, choosing to just ignore the way Chimney rolls his eyes at her, holding the door open for her before immediately going to flop back down on the couch.

Her cheerfulness fades a bit when she notices the gatorade on the coffee table in front of him and the bucket placed right nearby.

“Oh, you poor baby,” she sighs.

“It comes and it goes,” he shrugs, “I’m okay right now. Really, you didn’t have to come, Karen. Not that I don’t want you here or don’t appreciate it, I just… I don’t want you to feel like you HAVE to. I know I’m sick, but you and Hen have lives, too, and--”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off indelicately, “I’m here and I’m staying. Because I want to be here, not because I feel like I have to. Now. Move over-- there’s room for both of us on that couch.”

.

Hen really shouldn’t be surprised when Athena pulls her aside, tugging on her arm until she follows her outside into the backyard. She also shouldn’t be surprised by her first question.

“Okay, you want to fill me in on why my soon-to-be husband is constantly pacing around and saying how worried he is about Chimney?”

“Chimney’s taking some time off work; he’s stressed,” Hen says as casually as she can, and well, at least neither part of it is technically a lie, so at least she’s got that going for her.

“You wanna tell me why he’s so stressed out?”

And now she has to start lying. Great. That lasted long.

“I don’t know, he got stabbed fairly recently, Athena. I’d be stressed about that, too.”

“But he was fine to work for two months after that. Even filled in as captain while Bobby was gone.”

“Maybe it all just hit him at once. I don’t know, Athena.”

“You really expect me to believe you have no idea what’s going on with him? Because Bobby sure as hell doesn’t.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. He’s not answering my calls. He sends back the occasional text but that’s just to let me know he’s still alive. He’s not talking to me, either.”

“So you really expect me to believe that you don’t know, anything?”

“It’s the truth,” Hen shrugs, looking down at the grass, before she does get to say something that actually is the truth, “I’m just as worried about him as everyone else is.”

.

“Wait, wait, wait… she’s pregnant? The lady messed up and put the sperm in _her_ instead of the wife?”

“Yeah, it’s the premise of the whole show, Chim. It’s called ‘Jane the Virgin’ for a reason,” Karen scoffs with an eye roll, “and I explained all of this to you before I put it on.”

“Yeah, uh, I wasn’t really paying attention,” he admits with a blush, putting the tiniest bit of color back into his face, “not feeling so good, tired… figured I’d probably fall asleep ten minutes into whatever you put on so I just agreed to watch whatever you wanted.”

“Okay, well, you’re still awake so I’ll try not to get too offended by that. Here’s what’s happening. Her husband had to like, freeze all his sperm or whatever before he started treatment for testicular cancer so he could have babies in the future. The wife went to go get inseminated by the gynecologist, who also is the husband’s sister, just found out her wife cheated on her so she was distracted and accidentally put his swimmers in Jane, who is the titular virgin.”

“Wow, that’s… a lot. Just, can you pause it for a second? I need to throw up.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll even hold the bucket for you because I love you.”

.

Again, Hen shouldn’t be surprised when Maddie shyly approaches her.

“Hi,” she murmurs, chewing on her lip for a second, “I-I don’t think we’ve met, but I’m sure you know who I… I’m Maddie, Buck’s sister.”

“Hi, Maddie,” Hen says as kindly as she can muster despite the frustration coursing through her, because really, it would be completely unfair to be rude. She understands everyone’s concern and all the questioning, she really does. It just doesn’t make it any easier to deal with without feeling like she’s going to lose her mind.

“I… is Chimney okay? I know it’s none of my business, I’m just… scared. I’m really worried about him and I totally understand if he doesn’t want to see or hear from me yet, but I… can I help? Is there anything he needs? Is he going to be okay?”

“Maddie…” Hen sighs, “I really don’t know what to tell you, or anyone else who keeps asking me all those questions. I don’t know what’s going on, and I understand why everyone thinks that I do, but I just… don’t.”

“Are you sure?” Maddie asks, and Hen’s been feeling guilty a lot lately, but not quite as guilty as she now feels watching tears pool into Maddie’s big brown eyes as her bottom lip trembles.

“I’m sure,” Hen nods, hating herself a bit, “listen, if I hear anything from him I’ll let Buck and the rest of the 118 know, okay? I’m sure he’s going to be fine, he just… needs some space maybe. It’s been a rough year for everyone. Maybe he just needs to process it alone.”

“You promise? You’ll tell everyone if he reaches out to you?”

“I promise,” she lies, and she just knows this is going to come back to bite her in the ass.

.

“Aw, they’re engaged,” Chimney smiles, and it sort of reaches his eyes, “probably not gonna last long though because she’s pregnant with someone else’s baby.”

“Yeah, and baby daddy is way hotter, isn’t he? I mean, I know you’re not into men either, but…”

“Rafael is a beautiful man,” Chimney nods, “you are definitely correct on that front.”

“Oh my god, you guys, worst four hours of my life,” Hen groans after letting herself in with the spare key Hen had _demanded_ Chimney give, “but uh, you two seem to be having a good time.”

“We’re watching Jane the Virgin and we are having a GREAT time,” Karen declares proudly, “see? I told you we’d be fine while you went to the party. I’m a great caretaker, right Chimney?”

“Right,” he nods, rolling his eyes but still giving her a thumbs up.

“I told you I’d be good at it, baby.”

“I know, I know,” Hen sighs, coming forward to put a hand on Chimney’s shoulder, “I think I just… have a little separation anxiety from this one these days. Like when Denny was a baby and the first few times we left him with a babysitter to go out.”

“Hen, I’m forty-two,” he says flatly, but she can see the sympathy on his face.

“Yes, but you’re sick,” she murmurs sadly, rubbing his back, “it’s an adjustment. Going to take a while for me to not feel anxious when we’re apart.”

“Karen took great care of me. I’m okay, I promise.”

“Okay might be pushing it,” Hen can’t help but laugh, “but I’m glad you two had fun. Now. Catch me up on this whole virgin show business so we can all watch the next episode together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao don't expect the updates to always be this fast but here, enjoy. also. if you've never watched jane the virgin you are missing out.


	5. Chapter 5

.

“Karen?” a vaguely familiar voice asks, and Karen’s sure she’s heard it before but can’t place it until she turns around to face the woman behind her.

It’s Maddie, Buck’s sister and Chimney’s (ex?) love interest. Of course. Karen suddenly feels VERY self conscious about the fact that her shopping cart is full of gatorade, canned soup, bananas, and ginger ale.

“I, uh, hi Maddie,” she says awkwardly, feeling her heart rate pick up as the other woman glances at the contents of her cart with a furrowed brow, “what are you doing here?”

“...Grocery shopping?” Maddie replies, furrowing her brow.

Yeah, that was a stupid question, but she’s panicking. She knows she’s a notoriously bad liar and that she needs to get out of this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Are you okay?” Maddie asks, because she doesn’t know Karen very well, but she’s always been warm, friendly, and bubbly, and now she can’t even seem to look her in the eye.

“Yeah, yeah, just… in a bit of a hurry. I’ll see you later, Maddie.”

.

“Hen,” Chimney sighs, “this separation anxiety thing is getting out of hand. You look exhausted and I know what it’s like after a 24 hour shift. Go home and--”

“Denny and Karen are asleep and I wanted to see my sweet boy,” she interrupts him, the term of endearment just slipping out before she can think to stop it.

“...Your sweet boy?” Chimney cackles, and the genuine amusement and touch of animation on his face makes any embarrassment that Hen is feeling more than worth it.

“Yeah,” she shrugs, “you’re my sweet boy and I missed you. Have you had dinner? Been drinking enough water?”

“Yes, Dr. Wilson, I’m fine.”

“For the last time, you’re not fine,” she half-growls, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

But then she takes a good look at him, sees how pale he is and how tired he looks and she can’t be mad, not for longer than two seconds. She sighs, coming forward and taking him into her arms on the couch.

“Mmm. Snuggles,” Chim whines contentedly, resting his head down on her shoulder.

“Just trying to keep you warm,” Hen murmurs sadly, hugging him a bit closer, “know you’ve been feeling a little cold lately.”

“How was work?” he asks after a moment, trying to keep the jealousy in his voice minimal. He wants her to be able to talk about it with him, it just also hurts because he misses it so badly.

“Oh you know, everyone continuing to ask me about you every five seconds,” she sighs, “but other than that, pretty boring day. Calls were few and far in between, but nobody died, so I guess that’s a good thing.”

“You sound almost disappointed by that,” he jabs good naturedly.

“Oh shut up, you know hit goes,” she chuckles, “I’m glad no patients died, it just gets a little restless waiting around at the station all day. Especially when I could be looking after you.”

“Hen, you worry too--”

“No, I don’t worry too much,” she shakes her head-- not willing to hear it, not again, “you’re sick and you live alone and you won’t agree to move in with me and Karen, so I’m allowed to worry. I don’t… I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you feel guilty; god, you shouldn’t feel guilty because it’s not your fault at all, it’s just… hard. I love you, Chimney, and all of this is hard.”

“I’m gonna be fine,’ he whispers, “you know that, Hen. All the doctors keep telling me I’m going to be fine.”

“That doesn’t mean the in between when you’re not fine yet doesn’t break my heart, Chim.”

“I’m--”

“No, please don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. I just love you a lot, okay? That’s why all of this is so hard for me.”

“I love you more,” he whines, and Hen can feel a tear or two dripping onto her shirt.

“Not possible, it’s equal,” she hums, kissing the top of his head, “you seem tired, Chim, and I didn’t mean to upset you. Just rest, sweet boy. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Hen waits for his breathing to even out and his eyes to slip shut before she starts sobbing, covering her mouth with her hand to try and muffle it as not to wake him.

.

“I’m telling you, they know something.”

“Uh, who knows what, Mads?” Buck asks, not following at all, which he thinks is fair because she just burst into his room huffing and puffing.

“I ran into Karen at the grocery store.”

“Okay…”

“She couldn’t even look me in the eye, Buck,” Maddie huffs, pacing the floor back and forth, “she couldn’t even look at me and she ran away from me as soon as she could. And it’s Karen, she’s always so nice, you know that.”

“Maybe she was having a bad day or something?” Buck offers, because yeah it sounds a little weird, but maybe jumping to conclusions isn’t the wisest way to go with this.

“No, I’m telling you, it looked like she was scared,” Maddie shakes her head, “not necessarily scared of _me_ me but just… scared. It’s like she started panicking the moment she saw me and there’s no reason for that unless she knows what’s going on with Chimney. Which means Hen knows what’s going on with Chimney, and if they want to lie to me, fine? If he doesn’t want me and my help right now with whatever he’s struggling with because we’re… I get that. But she shouldn’t be lying to all of you because you’re his family and he needs… Oh, God. I sound crazy, don’t I, Buck?”

“I mean, maybe a little. And maybe you’re right.”

“Or maybe I’m just jumping to the conclusion that I _want_ because I want someone to be looking after him so bad.”

“You know… have you tried reaching out to him, Mads? Maybe he’d respond to you.”

“No, I mean yes,” she sighs, sinking down next to Buck on the bed, “yes I’ve tried, no he hasn’t responded. I’ve left him so many voicemails he probably thinks I’m insane.”

“We all have,” Buck shrugs, “so if he thinks you’re crazy he probably thinks all the rest of us are, too.”

“I just… he can be private, but… whatever it is, I don’t think he’d tell no one…” she whispers, shaking her head again, “no, Hen has to know something. Maybe Karen doesn’t and she was just being weird, but I know him, and he and Hen are so close. If he didn’t tell her originally she would be banging on his door every day until he finally let her in.”

.

Bobby takes a deep breath, not sure if he’s doing the right thing as he stands outside the door to Chimney’s apartment. Is he going to answer if he knocks? Probably not, but he’s tired of feeling helpless and scared and shut out by one of his dearest friends who is clearly going through _something_.

He just about works up the courage, bringing his hand forward, almost touching it to the door when he freezes.

There’s a voice inside. A voice that he knows. He can’t quite make out what she’s saying but he knows who’s saying it.

 _Hen_.

Who’s been claiming she knows nothing for weeks.

Yeah fucking right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honey (hen) you've got a big storm coming


	6. Chapter 6

Hen already feels like she’s going to lose it before she even walks into the station that morning. She’s had a rough night, or more accurately-- Chimney had a rough night and she was up with him throughout the better part of it.

He was exhausted but restless; too uncomfortable to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time. He had a low grade fever that came and went which is a very normal symptom of his cancer but Hen had found herself constantly bringing her hand to his forehead, making sure it wasn’t going any higher because he’s now more susceptible to infections than ever.

He also, of course, had kept telling her that she didn’t have to stay with him, that she could go home to her actual bed where she could sleep undisturbed because what was the use in both of them sleeping poorly? And she, of course, had told him that he was an idiot for even suggesting it.

What she hadn’t told him was how when he was coming out of one of his short fitful sleeps, still half gone, he had been whimpering for his “mama.” His mom. His beloved mother that he had lost far too soon and to cancer, no less. Suffice it to say her heart had broken into a million tiny pieces.

So yeah, she does not have the energy or grace to deal with anybody’s bullshit today, especially not whatever is going on with Bobby and Buck, who are glaring daggers at her. Eddie is just shaking her head sympathetically, and whatever, she doesn’t care. She tries to just blow past them on her way to her locker when Buck grabs her arm.

“Buck, let me--”

“What do you know?” he asks, voice low and quiet in that way that’s a telltale sign of deep emotion from him, and she squeezes her eyes shut tight, taking a deep breath.

“What do I know about what?” she asks, though of course, she has a pretty good idea what he’s getting at.

“Maddie ran into Karen yesterday. At the grocery store. Said she couldn’t even look her in the eye. My sister’s convinced she was panicking because she knows something about Chimney, which means that _you_ know something about Chimney.”

“Well, tell your sister--”

“I heard you,” Bobby whispers, a rare buildup of resentment in both his tone and his eyes.

“What?”

“In his apartment. I heard you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hen murmurs, and hey, at least it’s honest, she thinks to herself as she tries to calm the rapid beating of her heart.

“I went over to his apartment, to Chimney’s apartment,” Bobby says, voice getting just a little bit louder, “I… I needed to see him. To ask him to his face what was wrong so he couldn’t ignore me like when I called. I was going to knock and then… I heard you, Hen. I heard your voice coming from inside his apartment. All this time I had just _known_ that you were lying, that you knew at least _something_ about what was going on with him, but I had no proof. It just made me feel crazy because you kept swearing up and down that you were telling the truth, and I tried to believe it, because when have you ever lied to me before? You’ve always been nothing but trustworthy--”

“Stop it,” Hen cuts him off, shaking her head furiously, “stop it, Bobby, just stop it. I don’t… you must be mistaken. It must have been somebody--”

“Hen,” he barks, a rare authoritativeness in his voice, “stop lying to me. Stop lying to all of us. Chimney is our family, and you’re supposed to be a part of this family, too.”

“I am,” she whispers, biting down on her lip in an attempt to keep from crying because really, she can’t do this, not right now.

“Hen,” Eddie says quietly, and she can tell that at least _he_ wants to help her out here, “is there something that Chimney asked you not to tell us? Is that why you’ve been pretending like you don’t know anything?”

“That doesn’t--”

“Let her talk, Buck,” Eddie interrupts, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Hen pauses for a moment, considering if admitting to the fact that yes, she does know what’s going on but she just can’t tell them is the wisest thing to do here. Karen acting “weird” she can deny and explain away fairly easily, but her voice in Chimney’s apartment? She can try and lie her way out of it, but it would almost certainly just fall flat. Bobby’s known her for years-- he knows her voice, in person, over the phone, over the walkie with a fire crackling in the background… yeah, he’s got her backed into a corner.

“Okay fine,” she sighs, hoping that Chimney will understand, “yes, I’ve been lying. I do know what’s going on with Chimney, but he asked me not to tell and he’s my best friend, so I’m keeping his secret. And he’s going to be fine, he just… wants some privacy. There. Are you all happy now?”

“No,” Buck responds flatly, and it’s taking everything in Hen in that moment not to throw something and then storm off.

“Why wouldn’t he want to include us in whatever is going on? He’s Chimney, we’re his family…” Bobby trails off, sounding hurt and oh, there goes a flash of guilt within her.

“Sometimes people want privacy,” Eddie shrugs, and it’s clear he also wants the answers but is just trying to bail Hen out from being put on the spot, and later she’ll have to send him an edible arrangement in thanks or something.

“That’s right. He just wants some privacy,” Hen repeats, trying to sound calm, “it’s not my place, okay? It’s not my place to tell you. He’s my best friend and he made me promise not to.”

“But why?” Buck asks, sounding bewildered, “we’re the 118. We tell each other everything? We could… whatever it is we could help him.”

They’re all so caught up in their own heads-- Hen desperately trying to hold onto Chimney’s secret and the others confused and concerned, wondering what on Earth could possibly be so wrong that Chimney would think going into hiding was the answer-- that none of them hear the sound of heels clicking against the floor behind them.

“It’s not my place to tell,” Hen says again, looking up at the ceiling and yet again trying to take another deep, calming breath.

“Can you give us a hint?”

“Buck!” Hen snaps, no longer able to keep her frustration and desperation and anxiety at bay, “just leave it! He doesn’t want you to know and I know that hurts but you need to deal with it!”

“Deal with it?” Buck scoffs, “he’s my friend, supposed to be like my brother and he’s going through a hard time and he thinks, what? The best way to deal with it is to just disappear and ignore everyone’s calls? That’s so fucking stupid and immature and--”

“Watch your mouth,” Hen spits, and she knows it’s not Buck’s fault for jumping to those conclusions, she knows it’s not. He doesn’t know what’s going on. But Hen does, and she was just up all night with him while he suffered and she just cannot stand to hear Buck call him dumb or immature or selfish or whatever it is that’s also about to come out of his mouth.

“Why are you defending him? If he didn’t tell you--”

“But he did! Because I’m his best friend and he wants me involved, and the rest of you just have to make peace with the not knowing!”

“Oh please. You’re just enabling him to be selfish and hide because he got stabbed and now my sister doesn’t want to date him. Yeah, that sucks, but it doesn’t make it fair for him to just--”

“He’s not on a vacation, he has cancer you idiot!” she yells, immediately slapping a hand over her mouth after.

But it’s too late. She can’t take it back.

“H-Howie has cancer?” a quiet voice squeaks, and they all finally whip around to notice Maddie’s presence.

“Hen, start talking, now,” Bobby orders, voice hoarse and with tears in his eyes.

“Stage 2B Hodgkin’s lymphoma,” Hen whispers, “he noticed a lump in his underarm a few weeks ago. It’s spread to his chest wall, but nowhere else. He’s gonna be fine… a summer of chemo and then they’re confident he’ll be in remission. He’s not dying…”

“Chimney has cancer and you didn’t tell us? And he didn’t tell us?” 

“Bobby…” Hen sighs, wiping at her eyes, “he didn’t want… you know, he went through it all with his mom when he was a kid…”

“Karen,” Maddie says, voice void of emotion, “yesterday, her shopping cart was full of… he’s started chemo?”

“His first round was last week,” Hen nods, “it’s every other week for him, so he has this week off, just has to get blood work done, and then back to chemo again next week--”

She’s cut off by the sound of screaming. Maddie sinks down to the floor, falling as she sobs, just absolutely _wails_ Chimney’s name over and over again.

Yeah, Hen has really fucked this one up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooooooooooooooooooooooops


	7. Chapter 7

.

“Maddie, what are you doing?” Buck asks warily, a bit frightened as he watches his sister rushing around her bedroom, tearing clothes from her wardrobe to stuff into a suitcase. She’s also wiping at her cheeks every few seconds, but it’s futile, she hasn’t been able to stop crying for the past hour and a half and he doubts she’ll be able to stop anytime soon.

“He lives alone.”

“I mean, it sounds like Hen and Karen are over--”

“I’m moving in. With him. As soon as I finish packing up my stuff.”

“Maddie, hey, I know you’re upset but--”

“Upset?! You think I’m upset, Evan?” she shouts, chucking a balled up shirt at him, “oh, I think I’m _beyond_ that at this point. Chimney has cancer, my Howie has cancer, and nobody told me! Nobody besides Hen or Karen was told anything because he had the bright idea to keep it a secret and his _idiot_ , stupid fucking best friend thought it was just fine and dandy to enable that! So, yeah, I’m a little fucking _upset_ that Chimney is sick and started chemo and I had no idea, and I’m not going to let him be living alone any longer because somebody needs to be there _all of the time_ and not just most of the time, because he has cancer and he needs someone there. He needs me! So, yeah, I’m upset and I’m moving in with him whether he likes it or not!”

“...You know what?” Buck squeaks timidly, “cool. I’m sure he could use the new roommate. I’m just, uh, just gonna leave you alone to finish packing.”

.

Hen sits on the bench in front of the lockers, head in her hands. She knows she should be crying, she feels like she WANTS to cry but her body is just frozen. The tears need to fall but they won’t.

It’s Eddie who comes to sit next to her, silently putting a hand on her back.

She speaks first.

“The relief team Bobby called in is here. You can go home. You know that, right?”

“I do,” he nods, “just didn’t want to leave you all alone. Not until I know you’re going to be okay.”

“Eddie, I don’t think I’m going to be okay until Chimney is in remission.”

“That’s fair,” Eddie sighs, moving his hand up to her shoulder to give her a gentle squeeze, “look… I know everyone’s pissed at you, and I just wanna say… I get it, why you did what you did. Why you kept it a secret-- I-I get it. I’m not sure I agree with it, but I understand. And I don’t think… I don’t think it’s fair to judge you or be angry, because, well, you’re getting enough of that from everyone else, but also… I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing. I don’t _know_ if I would have done the same thing either, but it just is probably one of those impossible situations where you don’t know what you’re going to do until you’re in it. So I’ve got your back, is what I’m trying to say. Everyone else might be pissed, but you’ve got me.”

She doesn’t say anything in response, just throws her arms around him.

.

Chimney’s not surprised when he hears a knock on his door, he’s only surprised that it took so long. Hen had called him and given him a head’s up, and as much as he kind of wanted to be mad at her at first… he can’t be. Because she’s his best friend and he knows she did her best and he also knows it’s a huge, overwhelming secret to try and keep.

He’s surprised again when he opens the door.

“Maddie?”

She practically throws a suitcase through the door.

“Um, hi? I heard that Hen… I-I didn’t know how to… I’m sorry, I think? You look pissed and I--”

“What were you thinking?” she demands, eyes focused on his face, studying every inch of it.

“I’m thinking that there’s probably no right answer to that question.”

“Shut up, just shut up!” she shouts, gently shoving him a few steps back so she can make her way into his apartment, slamming the door behind him.

She’s silent, looking him up and down before refocusing on his face again. He just waits, waits for the lecture, waits for the yelling. He knows it’s coming, he knows that on some level he deserves it, so he just waits.

And then her entire demeanor just changes. Tears well up in her eyes and it’s like her chest is collapsing in on itself; she can no longer stand upright as her hands fall down to her knees.

“Howie,” she whimpers, shaking her head, “my Howie.”

“Maddie,” he breathes, full of shock, “Maddie, I… I don’t know what to say. Please don’t cry, I just--”

“Don’t cry? Don’t cry? How am I not supposed to cry?” she asks, lunging forward to throw her arms around him with such force that she almost topples the both of them over, “you’re sick, and I didn’t know and I… I had planned on yelling at you, I was preparing everything I needed to _scream_ at you in the car, but now I’m looking at you, holding you, and you’re just… you look so tired and sick, Chimney. You’re so tired and sick.”

“I’m going to be fine,” he whispers, tears welling up in his eyes, “and you can still yell if you need to, really, it’s okay, I get it…”

“No, no. I’m not going to yell,” she shakes her head, pulling her head back just enough to kiss him on the forehead, “I just… why would you…? I don’t care. I can’t care about that anymore. I’m just here. I’m here now and I lo-- care about you so much and I’m here and I’m not leaving. That’s why I brought the suitcase.”

“I was gonna ask about that next.”

“I have groceries in the car, I’ll be right back,” she mumbles, kissing him on the forehead a few more times, “you just rest, lie down… I’ll be back, will put it all away for you.”

“Maddie, you don’t have--”

“Just shut up. I’m here. I’m your roommate and I’m not leaving and I was a nurse for seven years so you’re just going to have to accept that I”m going to take care of you. Nothing else matters. I don’t care about the moment we were taking, or Doug, or things never being the same or anything else besides _you_ right now. You are all that matters to me.”

“...Maddie…”

“I said lie down,” she orders, clapping her hands authoritatively to let him know she’s not messing around, “you look like you’re going to pass out so just… lie down on the couch, please.”

.

“I can’t believe this.”

“I know, I can’t believe it either,” Athena sighs sympathetically, holding her fiance’s hand across the table, “it’s just so unfathomable that they would lie about something like that, I know.”

“It’s Chimney,” he shakes his head, “it’s Chimney, my… my friend, he’s like my family and he gets this cancer diagnosis, and he what? Decides it’s better to shut out all of the rest of us from it? It doesn’t make sense, it just doesn’t.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” Athena nods, “I wish I could help you understand it, but I’m just as lost and shocked as you are.”

“After everything… we’re a family. The 118 is a family and when someone in the family gets _cancer_ they’re supposed to let you know so you can take care of them, make them food, clean the house for them, take them to their appointments..,. Why? Why? Why wouldn’t he tell us?”

“I don’t know, baby. I really don’t. But you know now-- that counts for something, right?”

“I should have known sooner,” he grunts, shaking his head again, “I hate him, I hate _her_ , I’m just… I’m just so mad, Athena. Just so, so mad.”

“And that’s okay. You’re allowed to be angry, Bobby. It’s maddening.”

“I’m so mad,” he repeats, before pulling his hand back and getting up from his chair, opening the kitchen cabinets and peering at what’s inside of them, “I’m so mad, but… what do you think Chimney would feel up to eating these days?”

.

“Does that feel okay?” Maddie asks quietly, her hand under his shirt rubbing gentle circles over his stomach, “I know you said your mom used to give you belly rubs when you were sick, and I just thought…”

“It feels great,” he sighs contentedly, “thank you, Maddie. So, uh, you’re really staying here, huh? You’re really moving in?”

“I am,” she nods, wrapping her non belly rubbing arm around him a little tighter, “I’m staying. You need me. Please just let me do this for you, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers, nuzzling into her neck a bit, “okay. Feels nice.”

“Poor baby,” she murmurs, shaking her head ever so slightly, “this is what you could have had the entire time if you had just been honest with everyone. Would’ve been right there with you from the start.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Poor thing,” Maddie sighs, running her fingers through Chimney’s hair, thankful that a clump of it doesn’t come out as it does. He hasn’t started losing his hair yet, but his second chemo session is next week and she’s sure it will start to fall out then.

It’s her first night with Chimney since she’s become aware of his cancer diagnosis and moved herself in a few hours before, and it’s absolutely breaking her heart. He can’t seem to get comfortable and keeps whimpering and groaning and shifting his position.

“Maddie,” he sighs, “you don’t have to-- I can take the couch.”

“You have cancer and you think I’m going to let you sleep on the couch?”

“I just don’t want to keep you up,” he murmurs, “takes me forever to fall asleep and then often I keep waking up throughout the night, sometimes drenched in sweat. Don’t want to make you suffer through that with me. No reason you shouldn’t get a good night’s sleep just because I’m not going to.”

“Oh, shut up,” she says with an eye roll, continuing to card her fingers through his hair, hoping desperately that it brings him some measure of comfort, “I signed up for this. Why do you think I moved myself in? To take care of you. I knew some sleepless nights would be part of the deal and I’m more than willing to make that sacrifice; anything for you, really.”

“Maddie--”

“I’m staying,” she cuts him off, shaking her head, “besides, your bed is big enough for two. _Our_ bed, I should say.”

“Our bed?” he asks, and at least he sounds vaguely amused.

“I live here now,” she says simply, shrugging her shoulders, “and you’re most certainly not sleeping on the couch, and I’m sleeping wherever you are, so yes. Our bed.”

“...Our bed,” he sighs, seemingly relenting.

The relative peace only lasts a few seconds, though, as he’s again squirming and whimpering, clearly very uncomfortable and Maddie feels her heart drop for what feels like the seventieth time that day.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright,” Maddie hums, moving the palm of her hand to the back of his head and guiding it to lay down on her chest, “what’s wrong, hm? Is it your tummy?”

“No, at least… not right now.”

It comes and goes. He’ll fine for a few hours, even a little hungry and not having to have his food practically forced on him by Hen or Karen (or now Maddie, he guesses), and then suddenly have to shove his head in the toilet, or the bucket he tends to keep close to him, being overtaken by an overwhelming urge to vomit up whatever he had managed to get into his stomach.

(Or that one time it came on so quickly his lunch had come up all over Karen, which was absolutely mortifying no matter how many times Karen assured him it was fine, that he couldn’t help it and that she’s a mom so she’s had it happen to her before.)

He hasn’t thrown up in front of Maddie yet, but he knows it will inevitably happen and probably sooner rather than later, and he’s dreading. He knows she loves him-- they had exchanged their first I love you’s earlier that night, though the status of their relationship still remains unclear-- and she was a nurse for seven years, so it really shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but it’s just… hard.

Less than twelve hours ago they were taking a minute from their relationship and he hadn’t seen her in months.

Now she’s his roommate and primary caretaker and possibly his girlfriend who is completely committed to seeing him through the most vulnerable season of his life.

It’s a big adjustment, and a bit of a shock to his system.

“What is it that’s not feeling good then?” Maddie asks, rubbing his back with the hand that’s not cradling his head to her chest.

“Just… hard to explain. Just uncomfortable. So tired but can’t sleep. Just feel so… off. That’s not a very good description, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I know what you mean. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Dunno,” he sighs, and it’s honest, because her cuddles are definitely helping to make it a little better, but he’s not sure if anything else could help beyond that.

Maddie frowns, and she had tried to prepare herself for this, the feeling of helplessness, but it still hurts more than she ever could have anticipated. She’s a nurse, she’s better equipped to take care of him than most, but her tenure as a nurse also taught her that in the end, there’s only so much you can do to keep people with certain illnesses comfortable, with cancer definitely being one of them. She can comfort him, she can help, but she can’t make it all better.

She knew that going in, but it still doesn’t make it any easier to cope with.

“I could put on a movie?” she offers, “might distract you a little bit, at least. Or I could maybe run you a bath? I bought a couple of different types of bubble bath at the store.”

“You did?” he asks, and she can practically feel him smiling against her chest.

“Mhmm, thought you might want to have options, and I didn’t… I don’t know if the chemo has made you sensitive to any smells yet, and I just wanted to make sure I had something that would work in case the smell of one might make you feel sick.”

“You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“I was a nurse,” she shrugs, “but does a bath sound nice? Could help you relax, maybe help you fall asleep a little easier. And I could… I could wash your hair for you, if that’s alright?”

“Maddie,” he whispers, pulling back to look up at her in surprise, “you don’t… you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” she murmurs, pouting at him, “if that’s okay, of course. I-I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, but… I want to take care of you. Wash you up so you don’t have to do any of the work, can just relax.”

“Mmm. Sounds kinda nice,” he admits, though he’s a little apprehensive about the level of vulnerability involved, especially when this is, uh, not really the most ideal situation for her to see him naked for the first time.

“Just let me do this for you, okay?”

“Wait, do I smell?” he asks, scrunching up his face a bit.

“Well, you are starting to get sweaty,” she jokes lightly, though she’s frowning as she brushes a hand across his forehead, “just… let’s take a bath, okay? Together.”

“Okay,” he nods, smiling just the teeniest bit, “let’s take a bath together, Maddie.”

She grins down at him, kissing the top of his head before gently shimmying out from under him to scurry out of bed.

“Be right back, just gonna go get the selection of bubble bath I bought so you can choose which one you want.”

She’s gone before he can even reply, and he sits up against the headboard, sighing.

He’s lucky, he thinks. Even if in the grand scheme of things, he’s actually incredibly _unlucky_ , at least he has her.

Maybe Hen was right about the whole insisting on hiding his cancer thing being an idiot move.


	9. Chapter 9

Hen stands in the doorway of Chimney’s bedroom, shifting her weight back and forth among her feet ever so slightly. She’s nervous, no matter how many times Chimney had assured her it was fine, that he wasn’t angry, she--

“You gonna come in or you're just gonna watch me?”  
“You’re awake,” she murmurs, jumping a bit and almost dropping the box in her hands, “ Maddie said you were sleeping?”

“Was trying to,” he sighs, slowly sitting up against the headboard, “what’s in the box?”

“Cupcakes.”

“You trying to win me over? I told you I’m not mad at you.”

“More so trying to win Maddie over, but she told me she didn’t, and I quote, want anything to do with my stupid cupcakes, so yeah, they’re for you.”

“She’s um… I’d tell you she’d get over it eventually, but I uh… don’t know how long that will be,” he chuckles nervously, “she’s really… she’s angry that she didn’t know and she says she can’t be angry at me because I’m sick, so…”

“Yeah, your girlfriend hates me, and I get it. Can handle it. Knew that was going to be part of the deal when everyone inevitably found out. We’re just lucky you managed to convince her to let me be your babysitter while she was out; don’t know quite how you managed that.”

“She hates you but she loves me, and you’re my best friend. She’s not happy about it but she knows she can’t just ban you from the apartment.”

“Yeah,” Hen nods easily, biting her lip before coming over to put the box of cupcakes on the nightstand, “they’re red velvet, I know you like those. No pressure to eat any right now thought, of course, don’t know how your stomach is feeling. Do you need anything?”

“I need people to stop asking me if I need anything,” he quips, but he’s smiling at her.

“Not happening anytime soon, Chim, sorry,” she laughs, slipping to sit next to him in bed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, “now time for another question I’m sure you’re tired of hearing. How are you feeling?”

“Eh, not too terrible,” he answers, but he’s leaning into her, which she knows from years of best friendship means that he's not feeling well-- Chimney, bless his soul, can be quite clingy when he’s ill. Sometimes it’s a little annoying, now it just breaks her heart.

“Chim, I really am sorry that I--”

“Stop apologizing,” he cuts her off, shaking his head, “I knew on some level that we wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret forever. And maybe, uh, you broke a little quickly but… I put you in an impossible situation, Hen, it’s okay.”

“I still feel bad that I just yelled it out like that in the middle of the station,” she whispers, “but it’s a relief now that I don’t have to try to hide what’s going on with my sweet boy.”

The nickname, as always, gets a little smile out of him.

“Do I even want to know what it’s like at work?”

“Let’s just say I feel bad for the new paramedic filling in for you these next few months for walking into all this madness. She probably thinks we’re all insane.”

“I can’t even imagine… who’s mad at me the most?”

“Oh, Bobby, definitely Bobby. He’s the angriest at me, too, other than Maddie. Eddie’s been wonderfully forgiving with me so I’m sure he’ll do the same for you, and Buck… is Buck. I think it’s just… he feels betrayed, by both of us, which I get but… he’s not as angry as Bobby but it’s just a little complicated because Maddie is his sister, and he’s obviously very protective of her after everything that’s happened…”

“And she was hurt by the fact that we kept it a secret,” Chimney nods.

“You know,” she sighs, tapping his shoulder gently with her fingers, “it’s only going to get harder and harder to face them the longer you put it off. I know it’s only been a few days, but--”

“Bobby and Athena are coming over later,” he groans, not looking forward to it in the slightest, “I got the impression from Maddie that he took it the worst out of everyone from the 118, and I wanted to get that first meeting over with… everyone at once would’ve been too overwhelming, though.”

“Ah, I get that. Well, look on the bright side.”

“You might need to get those glasses checked because I don’t see any bright side to having my angry captain who I lied to over for dinner, Hen.”

“The bright side is he won’t punch you. He might yell, but no one’s gonna punch the guy with cancer.”

“Yeah, well, I hope you’re right.”

.

Athena keeps a careful observational eye on everyone seated in the living room.

Her fiance seems torn between anger and concern, a combination that’s grown very familiar with her over the past few days. He’s hardly said an actual word Chimney, mostly just conversing with Maddie.

Maddie, who is so tucked into Chimney’s side that Athena would not be surprised to find actual glue holding them together. Maddie, who is lovely and friendly as ever but whose eyes seem to flick over towards Chimney at least twenty times a minute.

It’s Chimney who Athena watches the most.

Chimney who seems a little more pale, and a little more tired than she last saw him. He’s smiling often as he normally does, but she can tell that he’s trying to put up a strong front, to try and pretend like less has changed than it actually has and that he’s feeling better than he actually is.

She can see the dark circles under his eyes, the way he’s mostly just poking at his food as opposed to actually eating it, and she can hear the way his laugh isn’t as easy or loud as she remembers it.

“I, uh, Chimney,” Bobby starts awkwardly, and Athena is both relieved that Bobby is actually talking to him and a little fearful that things might go sideways, “I wasn’t sure what… we brought some food over, put it in your fridge. A bunch of different stuff… I wasn’t sure what might taste or feel good to you right now.”

“Thank you, Bobby,” Chimney replies, just as awkwardly and she can tell Chimney surprised that Bobby’s directly acknowledged him.

“Of course. That’s what you do when you _know_ someone is sick.”

“Bobby,” she sighs sympathetically, nudging him because she understands the anger, she really does, but she doesn’t want this evening to go sideways.

“I-It’s okay,” Chimney stammers, “you can be mad, Bobby. Not that you need my permission to, I just… I get it.”

“Then why did you lie if you knew we’d be upset?” Bobby asks, and at least he’s asking from more of a place of genuine confusion than anger.

“I… it’s complicated. Hard to explain. D-Do we have to…?”

“We don’t have to right now,” Bobby nods, “I’m sorry.”

Bobby doesn’t sound like he’s _actually_ very sorry, but at least he lets it go.

“So, have you guys made any wedding plans?” Maddie asks, obviously having sensed the tension in Chimney beside her.

“Oh, just some preliminary brainstorming,” Athena replies, more than happy to help steer the conversation in a new direction, “you know, I never really thought I’d have another wedding so it feels a little weird to think about. But a good weird, of course.”

“I can imagine. Are we thinking sooner or later, though?”

“Probably sooner rather than later. We want to have a nice ceremony, but not a huge, overwhelmingly fancy one with all that extra fanfare.”

“I can understand that,” Maddie murmurs, but her eyes are on Chimney, not her, frowning and pouting up at him as she gestures to his still rather full plate. The two of them whisper back and forth a bit before Maddie picks up Chimney’s fork and brings it to his mouth.

“Isn’t that sweet?” Athena whispers to her fiance.

“Yeah, very,” he sighs, and she can again see that mix of betrayal and worry on his face as he watches Chimney initially shake his head before giving in and letting Maddie feed him, “glad he has her to take care of him.”

“Come on, another bite,” Maddie coos, “I know you don’t feel too hungry but you need to be eating, baby. And Bobby made it so it tastes so, so good.”

“It’s just going to get worse, you know,” Bobby whispers, looking at Athena with tears in his eyes, “I think that’s part of why I’m so angry. Look at him. He’s already struggling and it’s only going to get worse for a while. And I wouldn’t have known, if he had it his way. He would just be… suffering. Without me, without Maddie…”

“But you do know,” Athena says quietly, putting her hand on his knee, “you know now. You get to be there for him.”

“I know, and I’m glad it’s just…”

“Hard,” Athena finishes for him, sighing, “it’s all so hard, I know. It’ll take some time to forgive, that’s okay.”

“It is really good, Bobby,” Chimney says, now loudly enough for them to hear, “sorry I’m not eating very much, I just… don’t feel very well.”

“I know, Chim. You don’t have to apologize for that.”

“Right. Not for that. But need to be sorry about the other stuff.”

“Yeah, the other stuff,” Bobby can’t help but agree emphatically, but there’s a hint of a chuckle in his voice, so Athena thinks hey, at least that’s a start.


	10. Chapter 10

He doesn’t mean to snap at her, really, he doesn’t.

It’s just that he’s tired, as he always tends to be, and he woke up with a splitting headache and a queasy feeling in his stomach, and there Maddie is-- perfect, sweet, caring, Maddie-- trying to semi force feed him some breakfast.

He’s sure the pancakes she had lovingly made would taste and smell oh so very good to someone who was not undergoing chemotherapy, but he is undergoing cancer treatment, and he thinks if Maddie brings the fork to his mouth one more time he might throw up.

“Maddie--”

“Baby, you need to eat. I know you don’t want to, but--”

“Not gonna.”

“Chimney--”

“Maddie, just stop it, okay? Just stop it!”

He regrets it immediately, self loathing burning beneath his skin. He looks down for a moment with shame before he takes a deep breath and dares to look up at her.

“Maddie, I am so, so sorry. I’m so sorry, I really am. I’m just tired and I don’t feel good but that’s not an excuse and I--”

“It’s okay, Howie,” she coos, bringing her hand to his face to brush her thumb over his cheek, “it’s okay, I know.”

It’s the kindness in her face and her tone, the complete understanding and lack of any offense taken that leads to him bursting into tears.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” she asks in a panic, wiping furiously at his cheeks as if that will stop the flowing of the tears, “what’s wrong, Chim? Did I say the wrong thing? Are you in pain? Do I need to take you to the doctor?”

“S-so nice,” he weeps, feeling deeply and utterly pathetic, “y-you’re just so, so nice.”

That’s as eloquently as he can articulate it through his tears, but more specifically, he feels so utterly unworthy of her and all her help and seemingly endless patience. He gave her ex-husband an opening, she befriended him and didn’t see through his ruse, and they had to pause their relationship to deal with the trauma of the fallout.

And here she is, all moved in waiting on him hand and foot, with nothing but love and forgiveness, as if he didn’t almost (indirectly, but still) get her killed.

“Oh, honey,” she hums, burying her head in the crook of his neck, “you would do the same for me, yes you would. It’s okay, my love. How about we try again, hm?”

“T-try again?” he sniffles, not following.

“It’s only nine o’clock. So how about we get back in bed, cuddle up, and you go back to sleep for a few hours? We can start today over when you wake up.”

“Start over?”

“Mhmm, mhmm,” she nods, nose nudging against him, “we’ll try again after a nap.”

“Okay,” he whimpers shakily, “o-okay, Maddie.”

Chimney often has trouble falling asleep despite how exhausted he usually is, with insomnia and restlessness being another side effect of that god damned chemo, so as horrible as it sounds, Maddie is hoping he will just cry himself right to sleep.

And he does.

“Oh, you poor, poor baby,” Maddie whispers, rubbing his back, “you poor thing. Wish I could switch our places, I would do it in a heartbeat if it would mean you feeling all better. Hate to see you suffering. Hate it.”

He whimpers in his sleep, and she curses the universe for just _having_ to drive the point home.

Her phone rings, and after now cursing herself for not turning off the ringer, she picks up as a reflex to keep Chimney from waking.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Bobby. Just wanted to, uh, check in on you two. The both of you.”

“Oh, hi Bobby. We’re not really having a great morning but he’s back to sleep now and I’m hoping he’ll wake up feeling a little better.”

“Is he alright?”

“Nothing too extreme, just tired and nauseous; he started crying in the middle of breakfast so… decided to put him back to bed.”

“Ah. Poor thing,” Bobby sighs, and Maddie supposes that despite his overwhelming concern he feels for Chimney-- which is clear as day-- the anger he still feels makes it easier for him to reach out to her, instead.

“Yeah,” she sighs, biting her lip to try and keep the tears in her eyes from spilling over, “poor thing.”

“And how are _you_ doing, Maddie?”

“I, um, what do you mean?” she asks, and it’s not the first time she’s heard that question since she’s taken on the responsibility of being Chimney’s live-in caretaker. She’s heard it from Buck over the phone, from Athena when she was over for dinner the other night, and even from Hen, even if she responded by telling her to fuck off.

Really, she hardly knows Bobby, so it’s a shock to be hearing it from him.

“Just, you know, I know this has to be stressful for you.”

“I-I love him,” she settles on as a response after a moment, “so it’s worth it.”

“Didn’t say it wasn’t. Just… not easy. So I wanted to check in on you.”

“I’m… managing. He’s not too bad so far, but he has chemo again this week and it’s going to start to get worse, so I’m not looking forward to that. Which makes me feel selfish because he’s the one who--”

“You’re not selfish,” Bobby interrupts, a gentle, almost paternal undercurrent to his voice, “you love him. It’s not selfish to have a hard time seeing him in pain. And I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate everything you’re doing for him, and everything that you’re… putting aside, to be there. I know you’re not doing it for me, I know, it’s just… after rebar. After his accident. His girlfriend wasn’t there. She left him. Wasn’t even there when he woke up. So this is… different. And I appreciate it. And it helps to know that someone is always going to be there.”

“I love him,” she repeats, touched as a new kind of tears for the morning shine in her eyes, “there’s nowhere else I’d rather be, even if it’s hard.”

“I know I just recently brought over a lot of food, so your fridge is already pretty crowded, but I, uh, sort of asked your brother what some of your favorites are. So I’ll be by to drop some stuff off tomorrow, if that’s alright.”

“That’s… that’s more than alright and really so sweet, but you don’t have to.”

“I want to. As a thank you.”

“Well, I appreciate it.”

“And I appreciate you. I’ll let you go, you should probably try and get some rest while he’s sleeping. But please. Call me if you ever need anything, okay?”

“Okay, I will. Thank you, Bobby.”

“Bye.”

She sighs, pursing her lips in thought for a moment as she looks down at Chimney to make sure that he’s still sleeping, and thankfully he is out like a light.

“You really have such, such good friends, baby. Other than Hen.”

He whimpers again, almost as if he’s listening and disagreeing with her, and she rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. She was just respecting your wishes, I know. You’ve only said it to me about fifty times already. Tough. I’m holding a grudge so you better deal with it. Lucky I’m not evil like she is and am letting her in our house.”

Another whimper.

“Okay, fine. Evil is probably too harsh of a word.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to the whole two (2) people who read this story


	11. Chapter 11

“You’ll have to be quiet,” Maddie announces as she swings the door open, “the cancer hiding idiot squad is sleeping.”

Eddie looks mildly amused, cocking an eyebrow up at her with a hint of a smile he doesn’t dare to let grow larger while Buck just looks confused until he plods into the living room, letting out an “aww” at the sight in front of him.

Chimney is fast asleep practically on top of an also sleeping Hen, his head resting on her chest. One of Hen’s arms is around him and the other is at sort of a funny angle, her hand against his forehead.

He had a low fever earlier, what is likely a symptom of the lymphoma itself rather than an infection, but Hen must have fallen asleep gauging his temperature _just one more time_ to make sure he was okay, an observation that almost makes Maddie feel sympathetic toward her.

Almost.

“Sorry,” Maddie sighs after a moment, “I know you both were looking forward to seeing him for the first time he fell off the face of the earth. Hopefully he’ll wake up before you have to go, I just don’t have the heart to wake him…”

“Of course,” Eddie agrees easily, “let him rest. He needs it.”

“Yeah,” Maddie whispers, biting her lip, “he does.”

“How are you doing, Mads?” Buck asks quietly, wrapping an arm around his sister’s shoulders that she immediately leans into, “how have things been since you moved in?”

“Oh, you know…” she trails off, shaking her head as she tries to get her thoughts together, “it’s been… interesting. Hard. He’s been tired and sick but not too sick yet, know that’s going to change soon… I’m still adjusting to the shock of it all that he’s sick. He’s sick and I’ve only just found out.”

“He only knew for a few more weeks than--”

“Nope, I wouldn’t defend him and therefore Hen by extension in front of her, Eddie,” Buck chuckles, “it’s not worth it, trust me.”

“Ah. Sorry. I forgot we hate her in this particular household.” 

“Chim doesn’t,” she grumbles, “why do you think she’s in my living room?”

“So you’re really living here now, huh?” Eddie asks gently, “that’s, uh… that’s kind of you. I can see you’ve already put some interior designing touches around the place.”

“Chimney didn’t have enough color,” she shrugs.

“Well I think it’s lovely,” Buck chimes in, and Eddie has to bite his tongue hard to keep from laughing, because it’s incredibly clear to him that Buck is _more_ than a little afraid of his sister in her current stressed out, sleep deprived state.

“You’re my brother, you have to say that.”

“It’s also true.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

It’s quiet for a few moments, Eddie crossing and uncrossing his arms as he watches Hen and Chimney napping on the couch, trying to figure out what to do or say. Nothing feels adequate to meet the moment.

It’s hard for him not to feel angry at the universe. His wife-- well, she would have been his ex-wife had she stayed in the world longer-- just died, he’s now a single father all over again, and Chimney has cancer.

He still hasn’t felt brave enough to explain to Christopher why Chimney hasn’t been around since the funeral.

Buck, unsurprisingly, is the first to break the silence.

“How long have they been sleeping?”

“About an hour. Chim first, then Hen fell asleep not too long after. Probably just to avoid being alone with me.”

“Or--”

“Eddie, not worth it, remember?”

“I’m just saying,” he says, putting his hands up in surrender, hoping Maddie won’t smack him, “I think she really needs the rest, too. She’s seemed exhausted at work. I know you hate her and I 100% understand why and am not trying to change your mind about that-- all I’m saying is that she’s stressed out, too.”

“Yeah, whatever,” is all Maddie replies, but the look on her face suggests that she’s at least mulling his words over, so Eddie decides to take it as a win and leave it be.

“Are you two together again now?” Buck asks bluntly, once again breaking the silence and Eddie’s not sure he’s ever been so grateful for that quality of his that is sometimes annoying. Sometimes.

“What does it look like?” Maddie asks, shrugging her shoulders, “I love him and he loves me and I live here now, so yeah, of course we’re together.”

“I figured, I just… everything with Doug still happened and I just-- I wasn’t sure, sorry, probably shouldn’t have--”

“It’s fine, Evan,” Maddie shakes her head, “and yes, everything that happened that made Chimney and I take time apart still happened and the pain of it all isn’t magically fixed or anything but… some things are just far more important, you know?”

“I do,” Buck nods, smiling softly, “I’m happy for you two, really. You’re a great match and you both deserve to be happy. I’m sorry that… I’m so sorry that this is now happening. The first few months of a relationship are supposed to be some of the best, right? The honeymoon period.”

“It’s not at all what I had in mind for when we started dating, but, believe me, there’s nowhere else I need to be more right now than with him. We can make lots of happier, more joyful memories once he’s healthy again.”

“He’s really going to be okay?” Buck asks, in a childlike, scared voice that makes Maddie’s heart ache, “you’re not-- you’re not all just saying that to make us all feel better?”

“No, we’d never, or I guess, _I_ would never lie about something like that. He’s going to be okay. Chemo for a few months and then if that doesn’t get rid of all the cancer, some radiation. But I’ve talked to his oncologist and she’s confident that he’s going to be alright, just… miserable, for a while.”

“That’s good,” Buck murmurs, “I’m glad he’s going to be okay, I mean-- of course I am-- I just wish it didn’t all have to happen in the first place.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling,” Eddie agrees.

“How are you, Eddie?” Maddie asks after yet another heavy silence, sympathy in her tired, tired eyes.

It makes it easier to deal with, he thinks, in a horrible sort of way, that she’s suffering too in her own way. He knows everyone means well, of course he does, but there comes a time after something horrible happens when you just want people to look at you normally.

He’s willing to accept the sad eyes from Maddie, though, knowing that even if it’s not the same, she’s in her own personal circle of hell, too.

“Hard to put into words,” he says honestly, rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand, “somedays are better than others, but even on the better ones, my kid’s mom is still gone. Don’t know how you ever really reach a place of “okay” with that.”

“Time, or at least that’s what they say,” Maddie says kindly, reaching out a hand to rub his shoulder, “I’m really sorry, Eddie. I know that doesn’t fix anything, though.”

“Just like you hearing I’m sorry doesn’t fix the fact that Chimney is sick.”

“Yes, just like that.”

They’re so caught in their own little bubble of sadness, her and Eddie with Buck hanging onto every word, that they don’t notice that Chimney has stirred awake until he speaks.

“Buck? Eddie? What time is it?” he asks blearily, pausing to yawn, “Maddie, were supposed to wake me.”

“Yeah, I lied about that.”

At least Chimney smiles in response to that, as if he knew she was metaphorically crossing her fingers behind her back when she assured him that she would.

“Hey, Chim,” Buck whispers, a carefulness in voice that makes Chimney flinch because it’s become so familiar lately, “how are you feeling?”

“Mmm. Tired,” he mumbles, not meeting his friend’s eyes, “not as tired as Hen, though, apparently. Still sleeping.”

“Don’t blame her, it looks cozy. Took a few pictures of you two napping all snuggled up to hang at the station,” Eddie chuckles, trying to be subtle as he studies Chimney’s face, “I’m sure Bobby will want them framed.”

“As long as you don’t hang them here,” Maddie grumbles, and Eddie can’t help but laugh, even if it earns him a glare from her.

“Hen’s comfy. Be nice,” Chimney huffs, clearly still half-asleep because fully awake Chimney has learned by now not to even bother, to just consider it a gift that Maddie allows Hen into the apartment.

“I’m comfy, too,” Maddie huffs back.

“Didn’t say you weren’t.”

“Ah, yes, they definitely _are_ together.”

“Shut up, Buck.”

“Anyway,” Chimney chuckles, “please tell me that bag on the table doesn’t contain food, because Bobby already has the fridge so full it might explode.”

“I mean, it’s cookies…” Buck says awkwardly, “no fridge is ever too full for cookies…”

“Hey, Chim? Remember when you said you still wanted people to treat you like normal? My brother is clearly the exact same idiot as before.”

“Hey!”

“She’s teasing you, Buckaroo,” Chim laughs, “or at least, I think she is.”

“What kind of cookies, though?” Maddie asks after a moment, pursing her lips as she realizes that actually, she is quite hungry after forgetting to have lunch while fussing over Chimney.

“Oh, your favorite, of course!”

“Good brother. Guess you’re worth keeping around.”


	12. Chapter 12

It breaks her heart.

Chimney is lying, practically limp against the couch with his head propped up in her lap, incredibly quiet and eyes dull.

She saw it coming, and yet the second hand pain still pierces through her chest as if the knife is both frozen and on fire at the same time.

There’s a bucket on the coffee table in front of them, one that she has already had to wash out for reuse twice since they got home from his second chemo session, and maybe the bathroom would be more convenient, but she knows he’s likely going to be sick on and off for at least a few more hours and the thought of him on the cold, hard bathroom floor while he’s already so miserable is just too much for her to bear.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, baby,” she murmurs, running her fingers through his hair, and the words are really more to comfort herself because no, he’s clearly not okay.

“Feel sick,” he mumbles, eyes closed for a few seconds before popping open for one, then closing again, then open… as if he desperately wants to sleep but is too uncomfortable to.

“I know, baby, I know. Just tell me if you’re going to--”

She cuts herself off when he abruptly sits up, knowing exactly what’s coming but it happens too quick and she’s not quite fast enough, her shirt being covered in water she had forced on him and bile.

It’s okay, really, it is-- her shirt would still be the least of her concerns right now even if it was one of her favorites, but she had intentionally worn an old, tattered shirt that day in case of instances just like this one.

It’s not okay to Chimney, though, who she can tell is about five seconds away from bursting into tears.

“Shh, shh, it’s fine, I don’t care. Did that help? Do you feel a little better?”

He starts to cry anyway.

“Maddie, so sorry, so sorry, let me…” he trails off, squirming around in her grasp and reaching for the roll of paper towels on the table, and it pains her, really it does, that even though he’s clearly panicking his movements are still so slow.

“No, no, stop. Please stop. I can clean myself up in a bit. I’m not worried about me right now; I’m worried about you.”

“N-no,” he cries, still trying to wiggle out of her grasp despite his clear exhaustion making it obvious that he’s not going to win out against her, “sorry. D-didn’t mean to. Let me help.”

“Chim, no,” she sighs, shaking her head firmly, “stop it. I’m taking care of you right now, not the other way around, okay? I was a nurse for seven years, I can handle a little puke on my shirt, honey. It’s fine, Howie, I just want to take care of you. Just let me take care of you, please.”

“Threw u-up on you,” he whimpers, collapsing back down onto her not so much because he wants to give up but because his body is giving out on him, “like a little kid. Embarrassing.”

“Shh, Howie, nothing to be embarrassed about,” she hums, trying to suppress the urge to roll her eyes, “you’re sick from chemo, baby, you can’t help it.”

“Hmmph.”

“Hush. Nothing to be sorry for. Here to look after my poor, poor sick baby. Can you sip a little water for me?”

“Why? So I can just throw it back up on you five minutes later?”

“Because,” she sighs, clucking her tongue, “I don’t want you to get too dehydrated, Chim. That’s just going to make you feel worse.”

“Didn’t even know that was possible,” he mutters under his breath, and he clearly didn’t mean for her to hear it but she did and it fucking hurts.

He’s suffering, he feels awful, he’s in pain and there’s nothing she can really do to help besides offering a base level of comfort.

It hurts.

A whimper, and her heart is beating quickly and she’s pulled out of her thoughts immediately.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Just… hurt for a moment. Went away quick, fine now.”

She scoffs at “fine,” before shaking her head.

“Where did it hurt?”

“My knee, just for a second. Nerve pain. Normal with chemo. S’fine.”

She scoffs again.

“I’m sorry, Chimney, I wish I could do more to keep you comfortable, I really wish I could.”

“Not your fault, Maddie. You were a nurse. You know there’s only so much that you can do.”

She wants to tell him that it doesn’t make it any easier, that it doesn’t assuage the guilt and the unavoidable feeling that she’s failing him, but she can’t put that on him. She can’t let him comfort _her_ when he’s the one who is suffering.

So she just nods.

She’s about to gently ask him to drink some water again, this time with a pout on her lips in the hopes of tipping the odds in her favor, when there’s a knock on the door. She knows who it is, of course, but Howie doesn’t, and it’s obvious in his face.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispers, carefully helping him sit up enough for her to slide out from under him before scurrying over to the front door, hoping that he doesn’t hate her for this.

She knows he needs this, knows he needs the closest thing he has to living, loving parents to help support him through this, and he told her not to call them, that he didn’t want to burden or worry them, but she knew she needed to go behind his back and bring them into this.

Besides, if she hadn’t, her rage toward Hen would be entirely hypocritical.

“Howard?”

He perks up immediately, at least as much as he can given the circumstances.

“Mrs. Lee? Mr. Lee? M-Maddie, you called them?” he asks weakly, tears welling up in his eyes immediately.

“Howard,” Mrs. Lee whispers, “Howard, you should’ve called us. I’m glad Maddie called but I should have heard it from you. Why didn’t you… we’re here now. Here, let me on the couch…”

Maddie is biting her lip, glancing over from Chimney, to Mrs. Lee, to Mr. Lee-- who looks as if he is trying very, very hard to keep from crying, and she can’t say she blames him.

She knows he views Chimney as his sort of son, and knowing how much this all hurts her as is girlfriend, she can’t imagine what it feels like as his surrogate father…

“There we are,” Mrs. Lee hums quietly, resting Chimney’s head down on her lap, “lay on your side, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

“Don’t feel too good,” he whimpers, in a timid, childlike sort of voice.

“I know, I know, Howard, and I’m so sorry. But I’m here, and I brought some things for you, some broth you could sip on in a little bit if you’re feeling up to it. Maddie tells me you’ve been so, so sick today, hmm?”

“Chemo. Icky.”

“I know. I know how rough it is.”

The silent, unsaid “because I went through this with your mom once before” is clear in the air, and Maddie isn’t sure which is more cruel: Chimney having to watch his mother going through it, or Mrs. Lee having to now go through this with the man she views as a son.

“Howard,” Mr. Lee finally speaks, voice thick and pained, “why didn’t you call?”

“Didn’t want… to worry,” he whines, closing his eyes at the touch of Mrs. Lee’s hand rubbing circles on his back, “after Kevin… didn’t want… gonna be fine.”

“Should have called, you silly boy,” Mrs. Lee sighs, “nowhere we need to be more than here with you. Need to know when our boy is sick.”

“We uh,” Mr. Lee starts nervously, clearing his throat, “we brought a gift for you.”

“Gift?” he asks, eyes opening again in interest.

“Was your mom’s…” he says carefully, pulling out a stuffed bear out of a gift bag, “we got it for her when she was going through treatment, mostly as a joke, just wanted to make her smile. She wanted us to have it when she… but we thought, we just thought… should be with you these next few months.”

“Was my mama’s?” he whimpers, a tear slipping down his cheeks.

“Yes, uh, here,” he murmurs, coming forward and holding out the bear which Chimney eagerly reaches out for with shaky arms, clinging to it right away, nuzzling into the stuffed animal’s fur.

“Your mama’s,” Mrs. Lee coos, one hand on his back and the other carding through his hair, “for you now. Brought her some comfort and hopefully will do the same for you.”

“Mmm. Love you. Love you both,” Chimney whispers, yawning a bit and Maddie desperately, desperately, hopes his body will let him get some sleep, “and Maddie.”

_“I love you, too, we all do,” Maddie answers, crying a bit herself._

__

__

_“Mmm. Maddie?”_

_“Yes, baby?”_

_“Thank you. For calling them.”_

__

__

_“Of course. Needed your parents.”_


	13. Chapter 13

.

Hen has always felt protective of Chimney.

He’s kind, one might say too kind for his own good, he’s eager to please, and just wants to make everyone around him happy, even at the expense of himself.

All things she loves about him, don’t get her wrong, but it makes him easy to take advantage of and often leads him to not getting what he needs because he has a hard time standing up for himself, not wanting to inconvenience or disappoint anyone.

That coupled with when there was a time when it was pretty much _only them_ , when she joined the 118 and the guys gave him a bit of a break but didn’t ever truly accept him as one of their own, when they both felt like outsiders, when he wasn’t talking to the Lees after Kevin died and then her and her girlfriend at the time broke up… they felt all alone, except for one another.

The bond they forged grew beyond strong; he was her family and she was his.

When he had a metal pipe through his brain and no one knew if he would survive surgery, and then when he did if he would ever come out of that coma, she’s not sure she had ever felt so helpless.

She swore to herself that if he ever came back, she would do her best to keep him out of harm's way for the rest of his life, to make sure he never got hurt so badly ever again.

And he had come back, so she had done her best to protect him.

But it wasn’t enough and he still got stabbed, almost dying a second time.

She should have pushed harder. She knew in her bones that it felt like just a little bit _too_ much of a coincidence that the same man he “randomly” stumbled upon at the Christmas tree farm was also the same man who ran into him when he was trying to buy Die Hard for Maddie, and then also was the same man to find his wallet.

She had no inkling that it was Maddie’s actual ex-husband, however, but something felt off to her.

But Chimney assured her that it was all just serendipity and the magic of the season, and that he was so happy to finally have a new friend outside of the station and who was she to stomp on his newfound happiness?

She should have pushed harder.

And now he has cancer.

She knows, logically she knows that there’s certainly nothing she could have done to prevent that instance of his misfortune.

But she had still felt inadequate, still felt like somehow she had failed _yet again_ in keeping him safe.

So maybe it was dumb, yes, to agree to help keep his cancer a secret. But sitting there, in that doctor’s office as the official diagnosis and prospective treatment plan was laid out in front of them, she knew she’d do anything-- anything-- to help him.

She couldn’t betray his trust. She couldn’t fail him again. (Of course, she had ended up doing so, but at least that was an accident and not a conscious choice to go behind his back and tell the team about his illness.)

She just wishes everyone else-- besides Eddie, who’s been a godsend-- would try and see it from her point of view.

Maddie, she can deal with. Maddie is now Chimney’s girlfriend and Hen knows on some level that she’s just a scapegoat, someone to put all the anger and blame on for all of Chimney’s suffering. She can handle the other woman’s ire, the snide comments, the glares… the two of them hardly know each other so at least her anger doesn’t feel personal.

But it does with Bobby and Buck.

She understands it, she does. She understands why they’re hurt but she just wishes they could see past it, at least just enough to realize that she’s _drowning_ with all this because Chimney is not only her best friend but her partner at work, and now she has to learn to work with the new replacement paramedic while worrying about how Chimney is doing at home, and trying to figure out how to split her time between her wife and kid and her best friend with cancer.

She constantly feels like she’s racing against the clock and like no matter what she does, she’s somehow wasting every second.

If she’s not with Chimney, she feels guilty about that.

If she’s not with Karen and Denny, she feels guilty about that, too.

When she’s at work, she feels guilty for both.

So really, her patience thins by the day, and she should really just let it roll off her back but Bobby is giving her that same disappointed glance she’s grown so accustomed to but she just can’t take it, not after another terse text update from Maddie about how Chimney isn’t doing so well a few days after his second chemo session.

“What? You’re just going to hate me forever?” she snaps at Bobby, whose shoulders tense up in shock, “it’s not my fault Chimney didn’t want you to know.”

It’s immature, and she’ll probably get called into her captain’s office to talk about it, maybe even get written up for it, later, but she doesn’t care. It’s the least of her worries.

.

Chimney is sleeping.

Well, Maddie thinks he’s sleeping.

He woke up about fifteen minutes ago to throw up in the trash can Maddie had so smartly left right by his side of the bed and hadn’t been able to fall back asleep despite now feeling a bit better.

He takes the glass off the bedside table to go refill it with water, but stops about halfway down the hallway on the way to a kitchen when he hears a voice that isn’t Maddie’s.

Buck.

What time is it? Hadn’t he and Hen been on a shift? Had he really been asleep for that long?

“I’m just saying, Maddie, isn’t it weird?” he asks, and Chimney knows he shouldn’t be listening in but now he’s a little curious as to what they’re talking about.

“No, it’s not weird, Evan,” Maddie retorts, and Chimney can’t see her face but knows by her tone of voice that she’s probably rolling her eyes.

“But isn’t it?”

“I just said that it wasn’t. Now lower your voice because he’s sleeping and I don’t want to wake him up.”

“See? Exactly my point.”

“That my boyfriend is sleeping? Everyone needs to sleep sometimes, Buck.”

His chest tightens a bit, and he’s starting to get the feeling that if he stays he’s going to end up hearing something that he’ll regret sticking around for, but he just leans against the wall, unable to pull himself away.

“It’s seven pm, Maddie.”

“So? He’s tired.”

“Because he’s sick.”

“Yeah, I already knew that, Buck. I’m his girlfriend,” she snaps, patience for her little brother clearly running short.

“But that’s what I’m saying! Doesn’t it feel weird? That you’re not really so much his girlfriend as you are his live-in caretaker.”

 _Oh_. Ouch. Chimney was right about overhearing something that would hurt his feelings.

That’s how Buck feels, and Maddie would never admit it out loud, but what if that’s how she feels, too?

What if she’s only here out of obligation?

What if she’s growing more bored and more frustrated with every passing day?

She probably regrets her decision to move in and is growing closer to leaving him-- and really, he can’t blame her for that, not at all.

His heart drops, and so does the glass from his hand.

It shatters, and his cover is blown.

“Chim, Howie, baby, he’s an idiot. Don’t listen to-- Buck, just get out.”

“But--”

“Get. Out. Of. My. House.”

“No, it’s fine,” Chimney shakes his head, tears falling from his eyes no matter how hard he tries to keep them safely at bay, “he d-doesn’t have to go. He’s right and--”

“No, he isn’t,” Maddie protests, “it’s Buck. He’s stupid when it comes to how healthy adult relationships work.”

“Hey!”

“It’s true. Now leave.”

“It’s f-fine,” Chimney repeats, stammering, and really, in his current state he is much slower than either Buckley sibling, but being halfway down the hallway he’s only a step away from the bathroom door.

It’s easy to slip in and lock the door behind him before either of them even realize what he’s going to do.

“Fuck, Buck. I fucking hate you,” Maddie huffs, “but… don’t leave yet. Any chance that you know how to pick a lock?”


	14. Chapter 14

The few minutes that it takes Buck to clumsily pick the lock on the door-- it’s been years since he’s had to pick one, okay-- feel like hours to Maddie as she waits anxiously on the other side, crying and pleading with her boyfriend to let her in, and seconds to Chimney, who is desperately trying to neatly sort all the conflicting thoughts whirling around his dizzied mind.

It’s not enough time.

He’s still a wreck, his wet face sitting on his knees curled up this chest, and Maddie is practically wailing in relief as she shoves herself down to kneel in front of him.

She will probably have bruises tomorrow.

“Buck, seriously, out,” she orders, waiting to hear the shutting of their front door before her hands are on his cheeks, trying to gently tilt his head up to look at her, “hi, baby. Let’s have a talk about what my idiot brother said, hm?”

“G’away.”

“Do you actually want me to leave or are you just pushing me away because you feel embarrassed?” she asks with a pout, before adding a semi-regretful, “either way, the answer is no.”

“I’m not going to die from being left alone for five minutes.”

His head is still down so he can’t see her flinch, but he knows he pushed it too far and feels a pang of guilt hit his chest. He finally lifts his head up, opening his mouth to apologize when Maddie shakes her head and speaks up before he can.

“In every relationship, there’s a balance… sorry, I-I sound like I’m lecturing you, I don’t mean to talk down to you I just-- Howie. Howie, I love you, and sometimes in a relationship… sometimes one person needs more being taken care of than the other. Ideally, you take equal care of yourselves and each other. But right now, that’s just not possible, and I know it sucks and is probably really hard to accept that you need as much of my help as you do, but unfortunately, it’s our normal. And it’s an honor and my pleasure to be able to be there for you. My brother is an idiot. Just because you’re sick it doesn’t mean you’re my patient and not my boyfriend.”

“But we can’t, it’s not… nevermind. It’s stupid.”

“Nothing you say is ever stupid,” she coos, brushing her thumb over cheek, “except maybe when you said Die Hard was the best Christmas movie ever made. But only that. So tell me.”

“We can’t do any normal couple stuff,” he sighs, and he feels like a god damned teenager as he does, lamenting about his parents won’t let him take his girlfriend out to the carnival on a school night, “we can’t really go out much because I’m so tired and sick and my immune system is getting weaker, and we can’t be carefree or spontaneous or… or other stuff.”

“Sex? You can say sex, Howard. You’re 42.”

There’s heat in his cheeks as he feels like even _more_ of a teenager, and he hopes to god that translates into some sort of color in his face because he looked a bit like a ghost when he looked in the mirror that morning.

“Okay, yeah. Sex. We can’t have sex because I have cancer and all I do is sleep, cry, and throw up-- oh God, I’m like a baby.”

“You are not like a baby, Howard,” she says with an eye roll, “and there’s more than one way to be intimate with someone.”

“I know, but, we’re adults and I wouldn’t blame you if you got… bored.”

“Are _you_ bored?”

“No, not at all. I didn’t mean--”

“Then why would I be bored?”

“Because I’m the one who feels too miserable to have sex. You’re… healthy.”

“Listen,” she sighs, looking down at the bathroom tiles as she picks at her nails, “when I was with Doug, sex was about appeasement. It was about making him happy, trying to avoid conflict, and an ugly, transactional way of trying to forge some peace in the house. It was never about me, or what I wanted, or if I even wanted it at all, you know? And I just… Howie, I never want you to feel pressured to appease me in that way. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Maddie, that’s not--”

“I know it’s not the exact same thing, I know,” she whispers, pausing to bite her lip, “but I don’t want anything that you’re not up to giving me. Your body needs rest. As long as I have all of your mind and heart, that’s more than enough for me.”

“Maddie,” he whimpers, tears welling up in his eyes, “you’re really happy like this? You’re really okay with being my live in nurse?”

“No, because I’m not your live in nurse, I’m your girlfriend who lives with you who also happens to have a nursing degree. There’s a difference.”

“You don’t feel… trapped? Suffocated?”

“God, no, Howie, not at all. Of course I’m not happy that you’re sick and it hurts me to see you feeling so horrible, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be, okay? I love you, and I’m a hell of a lot happier with you than without you, no matter what the circumstances. Okay?”

“Okay, just, maybe do one thing for me?”

“Anything.”

“Okay, so this is going to come out like an insult, but it’s not. I promise. I need you to go to therapy,” he says quickly, not daring to look up at her face, “I know that you were going before you moved in with me, and I’m so happy that we’re together now but me having cancer doesn’t make everything that you went through with Doug go away. I need you to… I don’t want you to feel like you can’t take care of yourself because you’re so busy taking care of me. Can you do that for me? Can you at least commit one hour a week to taking care of yourself and working through what you need to work through? I want you to be your happiest, healthiest self.”

“I can do that for you, baby,” she nods, eyes feeling a bit wet-- the entire conversation they’ve had is messy and uncomfortable but comes with the sort of trust and love and intimacy that will always be far more important to her than if Chimney feels up to having sex with her or not, “now, can you do something for me, Chim?”

“Anything,” he repeats back to her, smiling even if it’s not quite as widely as she’d like it to be.

She doesn’t respond with words, at least not right away. She stands up from the bathroom floor, going over to the shower and turning the faucet on, carefully tinkering with it back and forth as she tests it with her other hand to determine the perfect temperature.

“Okay, take your clothes off,” she requests gently, before seeing the look on his face and rolling her eyes, “no, baby, I know you don’t feel like doing _that_ , that was pretty much the whole point of the big vulnerable conversation we just had. Just take your clothes off and get in the shower with me.”

“Are you telling me I smell?”

“Just shut up and get in the shower.”

“Okay, okay.”

She discards of her own clothes, absentmindedly tossing them into the corner of the room without any real aim while waiting patiently for him to slowly undress himself and join her, pulling him back against her and wrapping an arm around his waist when he does.

“Gonna make you feel good. I know you’ve been feeling gross and sick all day, hm? Gonna wash you up and make you feel good.”

“Mmm,” he murmurs, closing his eyes at the sensation of her bare body against his as the warm water trickles down on him, shuddering in a way that for once has nothing to with fever or chills from chemo.

“Got lots of unscented bath stuff for you. Shampoo and body wash and shaving cream that won’t smell icky to your poor sensitive nose.”

“Always thinking of everything.”

“I got you, baby,” she hums, lathering his hair up with shampoo, raking her fingers along his scalp as she does, thankful that his hair has decided to at least stay put for one more day, “I’ve always got you,”

“Mmm. Love you more than anything.”

“Love you more than anything, too. Told you there more ways to feel intimate than just sex.”


	15. Chapter 15

Chimney can’t really think of a place he wants to be less than at a 118 extended family dinner down at the station.

His head is pounding, there’s that familiar unpleasant feeling in his stomach, he’s exhausted, he’s in pain… and the idea of him, Maddie, Hen, and Bobby all in the same place at once feels maybe a little ill advised.

Yet when Maddie, hand in his, asks him one more time if he wants to change his mind and go home as they’re walking into the station, he shakes his head no. He’s not quite sure why; maybe he just wants to try and feign normalcy for an hour or however long it’ll take before the bell mercifully goes off and he’s free.

The new face with red hair is who he presumes to be Holly, his interim replacement paramedic, based on Hen’s description of her. He’s sure she’s very nice, and very good at her job-- Hen had told him that much-- but it’s still hard not to feel bitter when he looks at her. She has his old life, the one he misses more and more with each passing.

He’s hoping the smile he forces out at her actually looks like a smile as opposed to a grimace.

He sees Buck and Eddie bounding down the stairs and suddenly feels self conscious. His first clump of hair had fallen out that day, and he didn’t think it was noticeable to someone not actively looking for it, but maybe Maddie had lied when she had reassured him that no one would be able to tell yet. Maybe he looks not only like a walking zombie from the paleness and dark shadows his eyes, but a balding one at that.

Well, he supposes he _is_ balding, but he doesn’t think it’s fair to fault himself for wanting to hold onto the appearance of _not_ balding for as long as he can.

Thankfully, if they notice anything, they don’t say anything nor stare inappropriately. 

“Hey, Chim. How ya feeling?” Eddie asks, and Chimney knows it’s 100% well intentioned and reasonable to ask but he has come to loathe that question that he inevitably ends up hearing at least five times a day.

“Alright,” he says, and it’s a lie in the most literal sense but relative to his new baseline, it’s not really a lie.

(AKA it’s a lie and he just wants to feel good about it.)

“This place is NOT the same without you,” Buck says emphatically, “Holly is great, though.”

“So I’ve heard,” he nods, trying to keep the jealousy out of his voice, especially when he can tell out of the corner of his eye that she’s approaching him.

“Ah, speak of the devil. Just kidding, Holly, you’re great, it’s just the hair that   
gets me confused.”

“Yeah, yeah, how many red hair jokes are you going to make?” she asks incredulously, but she’s smiling at Buck nonetheless before she puts her hand out for Chimney to shake, “hi, I’m Holly, nice to meet you.”

“Chimney, nice to meet you, too. This is Maddie, uh, my girlfriend and also Buckaroo’s sister.”

“Nice to meet you, Maddie,” Holly smiles, shaking her hand too before turning back to him, “Can I ask how you got that nickname, though?”

“Um, story for another time,” he mumbles sheepishly, thankful when Bobby bails him out by shouting out that the food is ready and it’s time to eat.

Eating is sort of the last thing he wants to do, but he knows if he were at home Maddie would be forcing him to have dinner, anyway, so he supposes that part of it all isn’t any worse here than it would be there.

What _does_ kind of make him want to punch the wall is when Eddie puts what he’s trying to play off as just a friendly arm around the shoulder, but is very transparently him trying to help him up the stairs. At least he’s trying to be subtle, he guesses.

“Chim! Hey!” Hen calls, “didn’t see you come in. And hello to you, too, Maddie.”

“Hen.”

“Yeah, wasn’t really expecting any warmer of a welcome,” Hen says calmly, shaking her head, and Chimney doesn’t know how Hen scrounges up such incredible patience for his girlfriend’s neverending ire towards her, but it certainly makes his life easier that she does.

“Uncle Chimney!” a familiar voice shouts excitedly.

He winces.

He loves Denny, loves the boy he considers a nephew so very much, but he’s been dreading having to face him since he got sick. He doesn’t want to sadden or scare him, but if Denny is either of those things, he doesn’t show it. He just runs at him full speed as he normally does, throwing his arms around him.

“Hey, Denny, remember what we said?” Karen asks with a scoff, “Uncle Chimney isn’t feeling well so we have to be a little gentle with him.”

“I can handle a hug from my favorite little man, Karen.”

“Are you okay?” Denny asks in that innocent, childlike way, looking up at him with huge nervous eyes and this is exactly why Chimney had wanted to put off seeing his nephew for as long as possible, “mommy and mama say you’re sick.”

“I am, but I’m going to be okay,” he answers as reassuringly as he can, “just have to take some medicine for a while that makes me not feel so good, but then after a few months I’ll be healthy again.”

“Why does the medicine make you feel bad if it’s supposed to make you better?”

“Denny--”

“It’s fine. It’s just a special kind of medicine because I’m a special kind of sick-- not like the cold you’d get going around school. But I’m going to be fine, I promise.”

Denny seems satisfied with that, or at least, his attention is redirected from it when he sees his friend Harry coming up the stairs with Athena and runs over to him.

“I’m so sorry, Chimney. I tried to tell him not to ask any questions, but… didn’t seem to listen to me.”

“It’s fine, Karen, he’s a kid. He’s curious. Knew I’d have to answer some questions for him eventually.”

Karen looks like she’s going to protest and then apologize again, but then Maddie, who is clutching his arm protectively, speaks before she can.

“Really, it’s fine, and Howie handled it so well, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Karen nods, “now how about we all go eat before Bobby starts calling us out by name for not sitting down at the table?”

Chimney intentionally doesn’t push his chair in all the way, wanting to put a little distance between him and the food in hopes of lessening the intensity of the smell of it that reaches his nose.

Bobby, almost definitely on purpose, has made one of his favorites and usually he would love the smell of it, but he’s already feeling a little nauseous and the smell of most food tends to make him want to gag these days. 

He knows Maddie is going to make him eat some of it, though, so he very tentatively sticks his fork into the plate of spaghetti and twirls some noodles around on it, bringing a tiny bite to his mouth and chewing it very, very slowly, desperately hoping his stomach will accept it while he’s out in public surrounded by all his friends.

He doesn’t want to become even more of the group pity project.

Bobby keeps glancing over at him intermittently to check that he’s eating, but other than that refuses to make eye contact with him.

It hurts, even if he understands Bobby’s anger, even if he knows he hurt Bobby first by not telling him he had cancer. He hopes that Bobby can come around to see it from his perspective and forgive him sooner rather than later, because after Hen, he’s the member of the 118 whose opinion he cares about the most.

The tension between Bobby and Hen is quite noticeable, too, though it seems more that it’s the other way around in that scenario, that Hen is refusing to acknowledge Bobby. He’ll ask her about it later when there aren’t so many pairs of listening ears around.

Maddie’s still holding beneath the table, and it’s comforting, but also makes him feel a little sad because she’s constantly on alert when it comes to him, and constantly feeling like she needs to protect and keep an eye on him.

It makes sense, he knows that it does, but it’s still hard for him to accept that this is his life now, and Maddie’s role as his girlfriend is far more overarching and complicated than it should be.

It all makes him feel profoundly sad, he realizes, sitting at the table with all of his healthy friends plus the new paramedic who all keep glancing at him with concern or pity.

He thought it would make him forget and feel more normal to be with all of them, that maybe he could get away from it all for one night.

Instead, it just emphasizes how different things are now, how different _he_ is now from the rest of them, and how different his life is from how it was just two months ago.

It hurts and it brings tears to his eyes, and worsens the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

He’s praying that the bell goes off soon.


	16. Chapter 16

“Didn’t you just get off an overnight shift? What are you doing here? You look exhausted.”

She _almost_ gets snippy with him and tells him that hey, he’s not looking too bright and chipper either, but figures that’s going a little too far considering how sick he is.

Just a little too far.

“I wanted to see you,” she says instead, going over and sitting down on the couch beside him.

Chimney has always been more than a little physically clingy when he’s not feeling well, and her being someone who is not nearly as physically affectionate with anyone but her wife and kid as Chimney is, it used to get on her nerves whenever he had a headache and wanted to lean on her. But now, miserable and ill and weak as he is, the opening of her arms for him as he starts to inch closer to her is automatic and the furthest thing from reluctant.

“Hi, come here, Chim,” she murmurs, “it’s alright, I’m here. Where’s Maddie, hm?”

“In the shower,” he replies, cuddling as close to her as is allowable by the laws of physics, “will probably be out soon. Never showers for more than five minutes. Gets too worried when she’s away from me.”

“Well,” Hen says quietly, taking a deep breath, “part of the reason I came here was to tell you something, so I’m thinking maybe I should get that out of the way now before your fire breathing girlfriend tries to kick me out…”

“News? Good news or bad news, Hen? Please say good news because my life is already depressing enough as is.”

“Good,” she nods emphatically, running her fingers through his hair before suddenly pulling her hand back, remembering how Chimney had texted her the other day that his hair was starting to come out, and boy, does she not want to accelerate that process, “it’s good news, Chimney.”

“Oh? So then spit it out and tell me.”

“Have some patience,” she rolls her eyes, before squeezing him a bit, “well, I was going to tell you about two months ago when we started… the whole process, but then you told me you might be sick and then you were and everything was crazy and I didn’t want to burden you.”

“...This isn’t sounding much like good news, Hen.”

“Karen and I decided to try and have a second child, and she started IVF and we had a sperm donor and it worked. She’s pregnant, Chim.”

“What?”

“I said my wife is--”

“What are you doing here?” an impatient voice huffs, and Hen swears that Chimney enjoys the tension between them a little because he laughs a bit, or maybe it’s just easier to laugh than cry.

“Hi, Maddie. Nice to see you, too.”

“Why are you here? You didn’t text. You know he doesn’t appreciate unexpected visitors.”

“Maddie, it’s Hen, it’s fine. I gave her a key for a reason,” Chimney tries, but Maddie just shakes her head and huffs again.

“I’ll leave in a second. I just had some news I needed to give Chimney and I did so soon I’ll be on my merry little way.”

“Hen,” Chimney sighs, “you don’t have to--”

“What news?” Maddie demands, eyes narrowing and Hen would roll her eyes if she was 100% sure it wouldn’t result in her getting murdered.

She sighs, mulling it over in her mind as she bites her lip. It’s still early on in the pregnancy, and with Karen being 40 years old there’s a higher risk of miscarriage than if she was younger, and Karen had likely only agreed to letting her to tell Chimney because God knows the man needs cheering up.

But Chimney’s a bad liar, so she supposes there’s a solid chance he’ll end up telling her on his own before he’s supposed to, and besides, maybe the good news will soften Maddie to her a bit.

Maybe. A girl can dream.

“It’s still early on, so please just keep it between you, but we did IVF and now Karen’s pregnant. If all goes well, we’re having a baby.”

Maddie crosses her arms, then uncrosses him, and it’s possible she’s just imagining it out of desperation, but she thinks she sees a hint of a smile on Maddie’s lips for half a second before she tamps it down.

“Congratulations,” the woman finally says evenly, “I’m happy for you, even if I don’t like you.”

“Thank you, I think? I-I’ll get going now, don’t hurt me.”

“I guess you can say. Just this once. Because we’re celebrating.”

“Just this once,” Hen nods, fighting off a giggle as she snuggles Chimney against her chest, “thanks, Maddie.”

She doesn’t say anything in response, just sits down on the couch on Chimney’s other side.

Whatever, she’ll take it, it’s not murder.

“Gonna have a baby, Hen,” Chimney whines contentedly, nuzzling into her in a way that makes Hen’s eyes get a little wet, but she’s not quite sure if they’re tears of joy or sadness.

“Mhmm. Denny’s going to be a big brother. You’ll get another nephew, or maybe a niece, only time will tell.”

“Did I scare him?”

“Hmm?”

“The other day, at the station for dinner,” Chimney explains, “tried to answer his questions in a non scary way but I know I look terrible, so…”

“You don’t look terrible,” Hen chides him, “but no, you didn’t scare him. He had a few more questions for me and Karen when we got home, that’s all.”

“Questions like what?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Makes me worry about it when you tell me not to worry,” he whines, tugging on her shirt a bit.

“Fair,” she concedes, “he just… he’s a kid, you know? He doesn’t really understand what cancer means. He hasn’t really known anyone who’s had it before.”

“Glad to be the first for him,” Chimney mutters bitterly, adding on a quick, “sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be. You’re allowed to be angry about all of it. It’s not fair and you don’t have to act all positive and sunshiney if that’s not how you’re actually feeling.”

“Hen’s right. For once,” Maddie mumbles, and this time Hen can’t hold back the laughter.

“See? Maddie and I are in agreement. That means it must be true.”

“Mmm.”

“You can be as negative and cranky as you need to be,” Maddie hums, wrapping her arms around him even if that means having to touch Hen, and it does, “no one expects you to be happy about this.”

“Just tired of feeling so tired and sick all the time,” he whimpers, and both of his two favorite women can hear the tears in his voice, “and I know it’s only going to get worse, and it’s not going to go away soon, g-gonna feel so bad for so long and I-I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” Hen whispers, giving him another squeeze, “that’s okay, honey. Anyone else would be scared, too.”

“Wish I could make it all better,” Maddie says quietly, tears of her own threatening to slip from her eyes, “it’s okay to be upset about being so sick, Howie, I’m upset for you, too.”

“What i-if I can’t do this?” he sniffles.

“Do what, baby?” Maddie asks warily.

“A-all of this. Get through it. Wh-what if I’m not strong enough?”

“You are,” Maddie answers immediately, burying her head in the crook of his neck, “you are, Howie.”

“D-don’t feel like it,” he admits with a sob, and Maddie swears she can feel her heart shattering into a hundred tiny pieces.

“Chim, honey, sweet boy,” Hen coos, pressing her lips to the top of his head for a moment, “you are strong enough, you are. You have no idea how strong you are. And I know this all sucks more badly than I can even comprehend but Maddie and I and everyone else who loves you-- which is a lot of people-- are going to be by your side throughout all of this.”

“I-I want my mom,” he whimpers desperately, and now Hen feels like she’s going to start crying, too.

“I know you do, baby,” Maddie whispers, “I know you do. I wish I could bring her back for you.”

“C-can’t do this. Can’t d-do this without her.”

“You can, Howie, you can. I know I can’t imagine what this feels like, but you’re the strongest person I know,” Maddie says desperately, sniffling as she does, “it’s unfair that you have to do this without her, but you can and you will.”

“N-not fair,” he sobs, shaking his head against Hen’s chest, “not f-fair at all.”

“No, it isn’t,” Hen agrees, kissing the top of his head again, “it’s not fair, Chim. It’s not fair, sweet boy, and I’m sorry. You’re allowed to be upset, okay? Cry as long as you need,”

And he does cry for a solid thirty minutes, before exhaustion overcomes him and he falls asleep, cradled between Hen and Maddie, who is also crying.

“I know you hate me,” Hen says carefully, “but you know I’m here for you, too, right? Chimney’s my best friend, but if you ever need anything, you can--”

“I’m not the one with cancer, I’m fine.”

“Maddie--”

“I said I’m fine.”

Well, she isn’t, but Hen knows not to push her luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big love and hugs to those who have left kudos and comments. so appreciative of y'all


	17. Chapter 17

.

It’s eight-thirty am on her day off, and Hen is not enthused when she hears a knock on her door. She loves her wife and kid, really, she does-- but they had both just left for work and school respectively, and she was looking forward to the peace and quiet.

Denny had been in a mood that morning, not wanting to get ready for school, which meant her very sensitive pregnant wife (she’s not allowed to say the word “hormonal”) was convinced it was because she had failed as a parent and had started weeping, in a mood of her own.

So yes, sue her for wanting to savor some silence.

She’s even less enthused when she sees who her visitor is through the peephole, swinging the door open with a grimace.

“Is that cake, I see? Let me guess, chocolate chip pound cake?”

“Your favorite,” Bobby nods, a sheepish smile on his face, “can I come inside?”

“Is this a real peace offering, or is this cake like some sort of Trojan Horse scenario?”

“Hen.”

“Yeah, okay. You can come inside.”

.

Chimney wakes up with a groan, hand on his stomach that causes his arm to twinge in pain at the movement. His vision is bleary as he blinks heavily a few times, debating trying to fall back asleep before he turns over and sees it. 

Hair on the pillow.

He hates the tears that spring to his eyes, because he knows his hair is so insignificant in the grand scheme of it all. His mother’s hair had fallen out, and he comforted her. Told her that everyone, especially him, would love her, hair or no hair. And that it would grow back.

(His mother had never gotten well enough for her hair to regrow.)

And he knows for him it all rings true. Doctors expect him to make a full recovery, and his hair will grow back, and he knows going bald for a few months will eventually be a tiny speck in his rearview mirror, and a more than worthy expense in exchange for his health and a long life to live. One day they’ll even probably laugh about it, Maddie will say he still looked handsome and Hen will joke that she misses having someone else rocking a shaved head along with her. 

Still, he wants to cry.

He slowly gets out of bed, knees aching as he does, reaching out to touch the mattress to steady himself for a few seconds. He continues forward, tracing Maddie’s presence down to the sound of bustling around in the kitchen.

“Hey, baby, good morning! How are you feeling?”

He opens his mouth to ask her to shave his remaining patches of hair off and accidentally ends up throwing up on the kitchen floor instead.

.

“I’m sorry I’ve been less than professional, and beyond that, I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk to you,” Bobby says with a sigh, shaking his head, “you didn’t deserve that Hen, or at least, not for more than a few days. I guess… it’s really Chimney that I’m mad at, you were just respecting his wishes, but…”

“It’s hard to be mad at the guy with cancer, I get it,” Hen nods, biting her lip for a few seconds, “listen, for what it’s worth, I agree that it was stupid of him to try and hide it, and I _told_ him so every day that we kept it a secret. It’s just-- he had just been stabbed, you know? He had just been stabbed and I was scared he wouldn’t make it, and then he did, and then he got this cancer diagnosis and I just… I had to do everything I could for him, you know? Even if I didn’t agree with it.”

“I get that, and I forgive you, Hen. And I’m sorry I’ve made your life even harder than it needs to be lately.”

“I forgive you, too,” Hen murmurs, reaching out to squeeze his hand for a moment, “and this was already going to be hard regardless, so you being grumpy with me is just a blimp in the radar.”

“How are you doing?” Bobby asks kindly, and gently, but Hen knows that look in his eye, that familiar look that she’s come to know to mean “don’t even bother lying to me, I can see right through you.”

“Stressed,” she whispers, putting her head in her hands for a couple of seconds, “beyond stressed. I’ve got work, trying to adjust to working with Holly-- who is great, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve worked with Chimney for years and we’ve just got this rhythm that I haven’t quite fallen into with Holly yet-- I’ve get Denny and Karen at home, and then Chimney is always in the back of my mind… it’s like I can’t ever stop thinking of everything that could possibly go wrong.”

“Go wrong?”

“He gets an infection, he loses too much weight, he gets dehydrated, he gets too anemic from the chemo… I could keep going, believe me, it keeps me up at night sometimes.”

“There’s only so much you can do, Hen,” Bobby reminds her, “he’s in the hands of very competent doctors, and Maddie is there with him, and she had been a nurse for years.”

“I know, I know. It’s just hard to let go. As fucked up as it probably sounds, I’m at my calmest when I’m with him, sick as he is.”

“That doesn’t sound fucked up to me at all. It sounds very reasonable.”

“But when I’m not with him… I know he’s in good hands, it’s just hard to let go when it’s out of my control, you know?”

“I do know,” he nods, “and I think that’s perfectly normal, Hen, but maybe you could talk to someone about it? Someone who is a professional and might be more helpful than just me telling you that I understand.”

“Well, I think you telling me that you understand is very helpful, but yeah. Yeah. Maybe you’re right. I guess I just feel guilty reaching out for help when it’s not even my crisis.”

“You love him-- he’s your best friend. It’s your crisis, too.”

.

“You sure you want me to do this?” Maddie asks quietly, rubbing his back, “you could still probably get away with--”

“No, please, I need it all gone now. The torture of all of it falling out, waiting for more and more until it’s all gone… just please, Maddie, please. Just shave it off for me.”

“Of course, you know I’ll do anything you need,” she sighs, “I just needed to make sure that you were sure first. Didn’t want you to regret it and be mad at me.”

“First of all, I wouldn’t be mad at you since it was my decision,” he replies, squeezing her hand, “and second of all, yes, I am sure. Would rather get it over with and start getting used to being ugly and bald sooner rather than later.”

“You won’t be ugly, you could never be ugly, but okay. Let’s do this, then?”

“Let’s do this.”

.

“Dad?”

“Yes, Christopher?”

“Denny says Chimney is sick,” Christopher says nervously, “really sick. Is he going to be okay?”

“Oh, buddy,” Eddie sighs, kneeling down in front of his son and brushing a hand through his hair, “yes, Chimney is going to be okay. He’ll be sick for a while, but he’s invincible, remember? Like a superhero.”

“Like a superhero,” Christopher repeats back, starting to slowly crack a smile, “can I see him? I miss him.”

“...I’ll talk to him, see if he’s up to any visitors anytime soon,” Eddie says diplomatically, knowing Chimney is wary of seeing the gang’s kids for fear of scaring them and making them too sad, “but I think seeing you would do him so good. Giving him one of those magic hugs of yours.”

“Magic?”

“Yeah, son. Your hugs are magic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes I would die for Christopher Diaz


	18. Chapter 18

Maddie awakes to a crashing sound, a bang, followed by a yelp.

She’s sitting up in seconds, heart pounding. Chimney’s not in bed next to her. Her feet carry her out of bed in a scramble, running down the hallway to the sound of the shower running, and whimpering as she gets closer.

“Chimney?” she shouts, slamming the door open as her wet eyes desperately search for him.

“H-hi,” he whimpers, pulling back the shower curtain a few inches so she can see him laying in the tub, “I-I fell. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“How--” she cuts herself off, attention immediately snapping to what is _clearly_ a very dislocated shoulder. She shakes her head as she kneels down in front of him, biting her lip in an attempt to keep the tears from falling as she scans the rest of his body for injuries. The wrist on the same arm might be sprained, and he might have hit his head, but nothing more serious than his shoulder stands out to her.

“Chimney, it’s 1 am a-and… what happened? Why didn’t you wake me up? Why were you in the shower? Did you--”

“Sweaty,” he admits sheepishly, “woke up too sweaty a-and just felt so gross and needed to shower. I, um, g-got a little dizzy for a second and slipped trying to regain my footing.”

Night sweats. Ah. It’s not as if she hasn’t told him about a million times that if he wakes up uncomfortable in the middle of the night to wake her up to help him. Great, now she feels like she can never sleep again because she can’t trust him to NOT end up lying naked and wet in the shower because he couldn’t swallow his pride enough to wake her.

Well, she thinks after a moment, it’s Chimney, so it’s probably more guilt than pride, but still. She’s pissed.

But his shoulder is out of socket and her concern outweighs her anger for the time being.

“Howie, I have to pop that back into place and it’s going to really hurt… I’m sorry, I have to. I don’t want to but I have to.”

“I know, Maddie,” he sighs, before hissing in pain, “I’m a paramedic, I know you have to. Lucky my girlfriend used to be a nurse and knows how to do it herself rather than having to--”

He’s cut off by his own scream of agony as she takes advantage of the element of surprise, shoving his shoulder joint back into place. It feels mean, but she knows first hand, and so does Chimney, that the anticipation when you when it’s coming can make it that much more unpleasant.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I-I’m so sorry, Chimney,” she whimpers, bringing a hand to wipe at the tears on his cheek. It’s when her sleeve flattens and clings to her skin with water that she realized she had been so focused on him that she hadn’t even realized the shower was still running.

Sighing, she stands up and turns the knob.

“Baby, I’m gonna dry you off a bit and then help you get into some pajamas, then we’re going to the hospital.”

“What?” he asks, entire body shaking, “y-you already popped it back in… why?”

“To get you checked over. Make sure that wrist is just sprained and not broken, and you might have hit your head and--”

“I didn’t hit my head.”

“Okay.”

“You think I’m lying to you?”

“I didn’t say that,” she chides, trying to get him to follow her finger with his eyes but he’s not having it.

“Maddie.”

“I don’t know, okay? I don’t think you would lie to me about a potential concussion but you _did_ lie when you said you would wake me up if you ever needed me.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“No offense, Chimney,” she scoffs, chest hot with renewed anger, “but you’re naked in the bathtub and I just had to pop your shoulder back into place, so yes, you did lie.”

“No, I didn’t,” he shakes his head firmly, and Maddie is tempted to interrupt and ask him if he’s lost his mind, “I just was sweaty, Maddie. No fever, I wasn’t sick, there was no reason to wake you up.”

“No reason to wake me up? Um, you fell in the shower because you got dizzy and now we’re going to have to take a trip to the hospital in the middle of the night, so _clearly_ there was a reason to wake me up.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, the only sound in the bathroom being her heavy breathing that she’s trying to calm. She doesn’t want to fight with him-- not right now, not when he’s in so much pain. There’s definitely a conversation that needs to be had but this is neither the time nor place.

“Chimney? We can talk later, okay? Right now what’s most important is getting you to the hospital to get checked out. I know you don’t want to go but I’m sure the nice painkillers they’ll give you will be fun, hmm?”

Her attempt at easing the tension with a joke seems to go mostly ignored by her boyfriend, who seems more or less… shut down, like he’s trying to pretend that she isn’t there, that he isn’t naked on the shower floor, that none of it is happening.

“Howie? Can you say something, please? I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

Still nothing.

“Howie?”

“Can you hand me that towel?” he finally mumbles, not even looking at her.

He more or less hardly acknowledges her as she gently dries him off and eases him into pajama pants and a LAFD t-shirt, ignoring her attempts at soothing him when putting his arms up to get the shirt over his head causes him to cry out in pain. His rejection of her hurts, even if she has a good idea that he’s not actually upset with her, but more the situation itself.

She gets it. She can’t imagine what it must feel like for him to so quickly lose so much of his independence, not even able to shower on his own without the risk of a hospital visit. Of course he had wanted to believe he was up to it, probably legitimately _did_ believe it and was caught off guard by how weak he had gotten so quickly.

He’s upset, embarrassed, and vulnerable, and in need of time to process.

She gets it.

It doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt when all she wants to do is comfort him and love on him and he’s not even speaking to her.

The tension, however, is completely obliterated the second the painkillers reach his system.

Eventually, she knows they’ll have to talk about all of this, but at the current moment she’s more than willing to soak up high as a kite, sweet, overly affectionate Chimney.

“Mmm doesn’t even hurt anymore,” he whines, clumsily wrapping his non in a sling arm around her, “you’re just that pretty, Maddie. Magic Maddie.”

“No, baby, I think that’s the medicine,” she giggles, kissing his cheek, “but you’re very, very sweet.”

“S’true,” he insists with a huff, and the indignant look on his face is adorable until his lower lip starts to wobble, “look sad. Have you been crying?”

“Shh, I’m fine, don’t you worry about me,” she murmurs, kissing a line down from his temple to his jaw, “just don’t like seeing my beautiful boyfriend in so much pain.”

“Doesn’t hurt anymore!”

“Oh, I know. That is VERY clear to me right now. And the doctor gave me a little more to give you later when we’re at home, so hopefully you’ll be nice and comfortable to rest all of today. Lots of sleep.”

“Not sleepy.”

“Oh really? Because you’ve yawned three times in the last five minutes. And you know, it’s 3 am in the first place.”

“Not sleeeeepy,” he whines, pouting at her and she can’t help it, he’s just so darn cute that he can’t blame her for taking the opportunity to kiss attack all over his face, ending with his mouth.

“Kisses,” he whimpers affectionately, looking right into her eyes, “love you.”

“I love you more, Howie. Now hopefully that nurse will be back soon so we can get you back into bed, preferably without any more incidents for the night, hmm?”

“Practically morning now, Maddie.”

“That’s right, that’s right, but still no more incidents, please. Oh God, I just realized I’m going to have to call your idiot best friend and admit that you got hurt on my watch.”

“Not your fault! And not an idiot! Hen’s very smart.”

“Debatable.”

“Maaaaaaaaaaaddie,” he drawls, tears filling up in his eyes, “love Hen a lot. Want you to love her, too. I was the one who told her to keep it a seeeeeeecret.”

“I know, but---”

“Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddie.”

“Fine. I’ll play nice today, but only because you’re hurt.”


	19. Chapter 19

“Shh, shh,” she hums, trying to maintain her patience as she shushes him for what feels like the twentieth time in the last hour. He’s chronically tired, he’s on heavy painkillers, and he’s been up since at least one am, so you would _think_ getting him to fall back asleep would be easy.

You would think wrong.

He can barely keep his eyes open, but he’s fighting sleep for some god forsaken reason that is completely beyond Maddie. She loves him, really she does, and high Chimney is absolutely adorable.

But she’s exhausted and stressed and feeling guilty over him being hurt in the first place, so she would REALLY like it if he would get some sleep.

“No, not bedtime yet,” he protests with a huff, wiggling around on the bed and if one of his shoulders hadn’t been forcibly shoved back into socket in the hours prior, she would lay down on him to keep him still.

“And why not?” she asks as patiently as she can muster, “you’re very sleepy, my baby, and you need rest to heal.”

“Doesn’t hurt.”

“Because of the medicine. Sleep.”

“No,” he whines with a pout, shaking his head and wiggling some more, “don’t wanna sleep.”

“Can you please explain why? Are you not feeling well? Is something bothering you? Do you need--”

“Preeeeetty Maddie. So pretty. Worry too much. Too pretty to be so worried.”

While she had assured both Bobby and Hen over the phone that everything was _fine_ and she had it handled, she has to admit, the knock she hears on the door feels more relieving than anything else.

She hates to admit it, but she could probably use the backup.

Especially since she failed him already; it was her watch that he got hurt on.

“Hi, how is-- well, I was going to ask how Chimney was doing but looking at your face I’m thinking that maybe the person I should be concerned about is you,” Bobby says kindly and carefully, noting the redness around Maddie’s eyes and the tension scrunching up her entire face.

“I’m fine,” she insists, shaking her head before the tears start spilling over no matter how she tries to stop them and her resolve crumbles, “I-I mean I’m not but that’s just b-because he won’t sleep and I should’ve been w-watching him more carefully and I-I-I…”

“Okay,” Bobby says quickly, wrapping an arm around the crying woman’s shoulders, “I’ll take her and Hen, why don’t you take Chimney? Is he in the bedroom, Maddie?”

“N-need to get back to him,” Maddie whimpers, but Bobby just shakes his head and leads her over to the couch, and they both can hear Chimney excitedly squealing Hen’s name a moment later.

“He’ll be fine with Hen for a little bit,” Bobby assures her, with that familiar calm tone of voice that should be helping her breathing even out, but the guilt and newfound insecurity about her caretaking are debilitating.

“B-better with her, probably,” she cries, “w-wouldn’t have gotten hurt if H-Hen was here.”

“Yes, he would’ve, Maddie. You know how he is. You have to sleep sometime, right? You can’t be awake 24/7 and Chimney SHOULD have woken you up, but he’s Chimney, so he didn’t. What do you think, you’re supposed to be psychic?”

“Y-yes,” she blubbers, and to his credit, Bobby doesn’t even flinch.

“Well I’m sorry to tell you this, Maddie, but that’s impossible. There’s nothing you could have done to prevent this and he’s going to be fine. It’s not your fault and hopefully he’s learned his lesson now.”

“N-never gonna be able t-to sleep again. Can’t sleep a-again. H-h-he’ll get hurt again,” she sobs, clinging to Bobby who still seems remarkably unphased by her meltdown.

“I understand why you feel that way right now,” he nods, rubbing her back soothingly, “but you and I both know that you can’t just decide to never sleep again. You’ll feel better about this and realize that it’s not your fault, Maddie, you’ll just need some time.”

“M-my fault, my f-fault…”

“No, no,” he hums, pulling her a bit closer, “not your fault at all.”

“W-was a nurse.”

“Yes, you were, but at the hospital nurses take shifts and go home to sleep sometimes, and there are also machines and wires attached to patients at hospitals so you know if they ever get out of bed. It’s not the same thing here at home and you know that, Maddie.”

“M-my fault,” she sobs again, and this time Bobby decides to stay quiet and just rub her back for a bit, thinking that she needs to cry it all out before she’ll be able to forgive herself for what’s not her fault and be willing to listen to reason.

Also having a hard time listening to reason? Chimney.

“Why are so opposed to sleeping, Chimney?” Hen asks with a half amused, half annoyed eyebrow raise, gently wrapping her arms around him with care not to bump his shoulder, “you clearly are very sleepy.”

“Am not.”

“At least you’re being great practice for when this second baby is a toddler.”

“Hey,” he whines, looking at her with an indignant pout, “don’t be mean.”

“Not being mean, just wondering why my sweet boy is being so stubborn. You’d think after a late night trip to the ER you’d be passed out, sound asleep. But no. You’re still giving your girlfriend a nervous breakdown.”

“Maaaaaddie.”

“Shh, Bobby’s got her, it’s okay. Just tell me why you’re being so fussy, hm?”

“Don’t wanna sleep, Hen.”

“I got that part, but tell me why.”

“Mmm, don’t feel as bad.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, but the frown is already forming on her face as she’s figuring out where he’s going with this.

“Mmmmm. Just don’t feel as baaaaaad. Don’t feel _good_ but the medicine is nice. M’high, Hen.”

“Yeah, yeah, can tell that you’re high,” she chuckles sadly, giving his good side a little squeeze, “and that’s making you feel a little better than usual, right? I guess being high on painkillers has you feeling less miserable than you normally would.”

“Still feel not great but don’t care as much,” he whines simply, putting his head down against her chest, “don’t wanna sleep ‘cause when I wake up it’s gonna feel really bad again _and_ I’m gonna feel ouchie.”

“Oh, Chimney,” she sighs, bringing one of her hands to the back of his head to hold it steady, “I’m so sorry, honey. I’m so sorry that you’ve been feeling bad but you need sleep now more than ever, okay? You need to sleep and I’ll be right here to help you feel better when you wake up, I promise.’

“Hen,” he whimpers, and she can feel a tear or two against her uniform-- her and Bobby having rushed over the second their twelve hour overnight shift was over.

“I know, I know, but you gotta sleep for me. Need rest so your body can fight off the cancer and so your poor shoulder can heal. That probably wasn’t very fun either, huh? Falling and dislocating that shoulder of yours.”

“No. Not fun. Ouch. Hurt a lot.”

“I’m sure it did. That’s why next time we wake Maddie or whoever else might be there up when we need to shower in the middle of the night, alright?”

“Embaaaarrassing.”

“She’s your girlfriend, Chimney. I’m sure she’s seen you naked by this point.”

“Yeah, but…” he whispers, trailing off with a sniffle, “hard needing so much help all the time. Feels sucky.”

“...Yeah, I imagine that it does,” she agrees, biting her lip as she rubs his arm that isn’t in a sling, “I’m sorry, Chimney, I’m sure that not a single bit of this is easy for you. But… maybe asking for help, even if it feels a little embarrassing, maybe that’s easier than a dislocated shoulder and a trip to the hospital at one am?”

“Mmm. Maybe you’re right,” he whines with a huff.

“I’m _always_ right, which means I’m also right about you needing to sleep. Nap time, Chimney, whether you like it or not.”

“Hmmmph.”

“So stubborn. So fussy.”

“Hmph.”

“Chiiiiiiiiiiiimney. You know you’re sleepy, sweet boy, so close those pretty brown eyes of yours.”

“You think I’m preeeeeetty?”

“Yeah,” she says, choking back a giggle, “especially now that you’ve got the same haircut as me. Always wanted someone else in my circle with a shaved head.”

“Looks better on you,” he whines quietly, and Hen’s hoping the reduction in volume coming from him means he’s starting to fall asleep.

“Hm, I’m not so sure about that. Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I think you might wear it better,” Hen murmurs.

“I agree,” Maddie adds, wiping at her eyes as she comes back into the bedroom with Bobby, “you look great, Howie.”

“See? So handsome,” Hen chuckles, “now sleep, Chim.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“But you gotta,” Bobby says with a sad smile, “and that’s a captain’s order, Chimney. I’m still your captain even if you’re not working right now.”

“S’not fair,” Chimney yawns, and Hen mouths an _oh thank God_ at him and Maddie.

“Oh, I think it’s plenty fair,” Bobby chuckles, “and right now Captain Nash says it’s time for bed and then time for some soup when you wake up. What do you think, Maddie?”

“I think that sounds perfect. See, Howie? Captain’s order AND your girlfriend agrees. Can’t go against that.”

“Not… fair….” he whines again, but his eyes are closed and his breathing evens out in seconds, having finally fallen asleep.

“Finally,” Maddie sighs in relief, tears pricking at her eyes again.

“Well, I guess I’m stuck,” Hen jokes, “but if it means he’s finally getting some sleep? I’ll take it.”

“And it’s your lucky day, because I told him that since he’s hurt I’ll have to be nice to you today.”

“Ah, silver linings all around.”

“Okay, Maddie, sleep and then food for you, too,” Bobby commands, grabbing her shoulders and gently pushing towards the bed.

“What, no, I--”

“Nuh, uh. None of that. Hen and I have got Chimney, so you enjoy letting us have the responsibility for a few hours and focus on yourself for once.”

“But--”

“Two against one, Madeline,” Hen smirks, “and you have to be nice to me, remember? Be nice by getting some rest. Bobby and I will stay up and watch the monster.”

“Monster seems a bit harsh,” Maddie huffs, “but I guess a nap does sound kind of nice…”

“After a trip to the ER in the middle of the night? I bet it does.”


	20. Chapter 20

It’s fairly easy for Bobby to convince Hen to close her eyes and drift off to sleep. She’s tried, as he also is, after a 12 hour overnight shift and he knows the stress of her best friend’s illness is only adding onto the exhaustion she feels. And now, with Chimney safe and sound and asleep and in her line of vision, he can practically see the reduction in tension in her body.

So she doesn’t put up much of a fight when he assures her that he’s got this, that he’ll see to Maddie and/or Chimney if they wake up while she’s still sleeping.

It does make it more than a little awkward when Chimney is the first to open his eyes with a soft whimper leaving his lips. He’s still angry-- even though Chimney is sick and miserable it’s hard for him to let go of the anger.

They’re family, or at least he thought they were, and he went and hid a cancer diagnosis, lying to him about why he needed time off work.

It just doesn’t make any sense to him.

Still, he’s not going to be a dick to the guy with cancer when he is currently the only person awake and alert to look after him.

“Hey, buddy. How are you feeling?”

Another whimper, followed by a low whine.

“I take it not that well?” Bobby asks with a sigh, rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand as he more or less stares at his friend, taking in his pale, exhausted face. There’s no trace of the light in his eyes he’s grown so accustomed to over the years.

Bobby had once told him he was the heart of the firehouse when he came back after recovering from his car accident. And it was true. It becomes even more painfully obvious with every day that Chimney is away from work. His energy, his joy, his smile, it all helped to bring some levity into a job that while is immensely rewarding, can also be beyond stressful and depressing somedays.

It hurts Bobby’s chest to see none of what usually makes Chimney, well, Chimney, in his dear friend of so many years.

“Feel weird.”

“What kind of weird, Chim?”

“Head feels weird and fuzzy,” he whimpers, “kinda cold.”

“Cold?” Bobby asks, immediately stepping forward to bring the back of his hand to Chimney’s forehead, before stopping in his tracks, before shaking his head and doing as originally planned. As tense as he feels around Chimney, both Maddie and Hen are counting on him to take good care of him, “maybe a little warm, buddy. Where do you and Maddie keep the thermometer? And you might still be feeling the effects of the painkillers a little bit, hopefully that’s why your head feels uh, fuzzy, and that’ll wear off, too.”

Chim points lazily in the direction of the bathroom, and while Bobby easily finds the thermometer in under five seconds, he takes the opportunity to pause and take a deep breath. It’s weird, yes, but Chimney needs him-- hurt feelings or not.

“Okay, open up.”

“M’not a kid, Bobby,” Chimney mumbles, but complying all the same.

Both men look anywhere but each other as they’re waiting for the thermometer to beep, and Bobby gets the feeling that Chimney has now woken up enough to realize exactly who it is that he’s dealing with and the emotional distance between them.

“100.1. Don’t think that’s too bad,” Bobby says carefully, noting the flushed cheeks Chimney is now sporting that he assumes has less to do with the mild fever than embarrassment.

“S’nothing. Doctor says not to worry unless it gets over 101.”

“Okay, well, I still don’t love it. How about I get you some medicine and heat up some soup for you? And maybe--”

“Bobby, I’m not a kid,” he says again, and Bobby has to fight off the urge to roll his eyes.

“I never said that you were,” he says, far more patiently than he actually feels, “you’re just sick, and right now your shoulder is also in a sling so I’m thinking you might need a little help.”

“I can--”

“Look, Chimney, this is weird for me, too,” he cuts him off bluntly, “but Maddie and Hen are both asleep and if they find out I let you go unfed and unmedicated when you’re running a fever, they’ll try and cut my head off. And then their anger will turn on you when they realize that I didn’t help you because you were being too stubborn.”

“It’s my arm, not my leg. I can move.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

There’s a long stretch of silence after that, with Chimney glaring at him and then Bobby staring right on back, arms folded across his chest to show that he’s not relenting. Part of him wants to yell at Chimney to just give in and stop being so god damn stubborn, because that’s what got him a dislocated shoulder and a late night trip to the ER in the first place. But he knows that yelling will only push his friend even further back into himself, unwilling to accept his help.

“You know, the longer we sit here arguing, the more likely it is that we’ll wake Hen or Maddie up. And I know you’ve been worried about Maddie not getting enough sleep…”

“Fucking emotional manipulation,” Chimney grumbles, but he’s making his way out of bed, so Bobby supposes that it worked.

Not his proudest moment, but it got the job done.

It’s a slow walk down the hallway, and Bobby has to consciously defy his instinct to go put a hand on Chimney’s back and help him, watching how lethargic and clumsy the movement is. It hurts, even if he still feels betrayed, to see just how sick Chimney has gotten so quickly.

He thinks back to Chimney’s last week at work before he went on leave, what Bobby now knows was after Chimney already knew he had cancer. He had been concerned about his friend, and not just because he asked for time off of work.

Chimney was normally the most perky, energetic person at work, but he was constantly just putting his head down on Hen or a table and drifting off to sleep, napping in between bells. He had tried to broach the subject with him, asking if he was having trouble sleeping at night, and Chimney had just brushed it off.

Still, that was all nothing compared to how tired and weak his friend looks now. He knows it’s because he’s being treated, because he’s undergoing what he needs to go through to get better, but it still feels beyond depressing to see Chimney slowly trudge his way over toward the kitchen, practically collapsing down into his chair.

Bobby puts two pills and a glass of water in front of him without a word, grateful when Chimney swallows the medicine without putting up a fight or another snide comment about how he could take care of himself.

“What kind of soup do you want? Brought over a couple that I can see in your--”

“Don’t care.”

Bobby opens his mouth to tell Chimney to just _fucking stop it_ but thinks better of it, shrugging and shaking his head. It’s not worth it, he’s angry at Chimney, sure, but he doesn’t want a fight. Instead he just decides to go with the tried and true favorite, chicken noodle.

He hums to himself a bit as he puts it on the stove, frowning when he can hear a quiet thud that lets him know that Chimney has laid his head down on the table. Too sick and too tired to keep his head up. Or, he’s so irritated with Bobby that he doesn’t even want to look at him.

Bobby hopes it’s the latter.

“You know,” Bobby starts after a few silent moments, even though his head is telling him to not push it, to just pick his battles and leave Chimney alone, “I’ve been to rehab a few times.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“It’s a pretty helpless feeling to have people looking after you 24/7, and to lose all of your freedom. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

No answer.

“I’ve never had cancer, so obviously I can’t tell you that I understand 100% of what you’re going through,” he murmurs, noting that Chimney still won’t even look up at him, “but I do know how… hard, how humiliating it feels to have to accept that you need help all of the time. I get how bad it feels to lose all of your independence all at once.”

Still nothing, except Bobby thinks he hears a sniffle. Normally he wouldn’t take reassurance in the fact that Chimney is possibly crying, but it means that there’s a chance that he’s getting through to him.

“You know I’m still upset with you, and I don’t think I’m ready to let go and forgive you just yet, but I think I might understand how some of this feels for you more fully than Hen or Maddie. So you need to talk, I can listen, okay? Even though I’m pissed at you. Because that’s what family does for one another. And, you know, tell each other when they have cancer.”

Yeah, he couldn’t resist that little jab at the end.

“I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

“I know, Chimney.”

“I-I know I hurt a lot of people really badly, but I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, buddy,” Bobby nods, moving to sit down in the chair in front of him, “you’re not cruel, I know that. I’m just… it’ll take a while. But I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

Chimney goes quiet for long moment again, and Bobby presumes that he’s shut down again, and is more relieved he actually got Chimney to _listen_ to him for a second there than frustrated that he’s lost him again, but then the other man speaks, lifting his head off the table so he can see his tear stained face.

“Soup smells good. Feel kind of hungry.”

“That’s good,” Bobby replies with a hint of a smile, “glad you have a bit of an appetite. Been worried about that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy cheese balls how is this at 20 chapters already


	21. Chapter 21

Maddie can’t sleep, even though Chimney is fine, relatively. He had a good day (again, relatively).

He woke up feeling a little sick to his stomach but tea and snuggles fixed it for once, and then there were no incidents of chemotherapy induced nausea or vomiting for the rest of the day, he had enough energy that he had only needed a short nap that afternoon, and he even felt well enough for Eddie and Christopher to come over.

And that visit had gone well, too-- Chim looked different of course, he had no hair and was paler than before, but Christopher hadn’t seemed disturbed by it in the slightest. It was sweet how unnerved he was by it actually; Maddie loved watching all three boys eating chips and watching whichever Captain America movie it was that they were so enthralled by.

But he’s still in a shoulder sling.

Still in a shoulder sling from his dislocated shoulder a few days before, a dislocated shoulder that he suffered while she was _asleep_ , so no, she doesn’t want to close her eyes and drift off, being potentially oblivious to another hypothetical accident.

She knows the internalized blame she’s feeling isn’t particularly fair to herself, that she’s not a robot and has to sleep sometimes, and that the responsibility was on Chimney to wake her up when he needed her.

But he hadn’t, and even if he has theoretically learned his lesson now, that mistrust is still there and she’s not going to let her cancer afflicted boyfriend suffer another injury on her watch again, god damn it.

She sighs, glancing over at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It’s half past two am, and she really should be sleeping, especially since there’s no guarantee that Chimney will have as good of a day today as he had the day before and might need her at her best and brightest.

Still, something deep inside of her, a deep buried anxiety is keeping her from closing her eyes for more than three seconds at a time, despite the fact that Chimney is sleeping peacefully. No night sweats, no tossing and turning, no whimpering in his sleep. He’s perfectly fine-- relatively speaking, of course.

But still, she can’t sleep, so she finds herself slowly sitting up and strolling towards the kitchen.

Maybe some tea will help her sleep, even though she shouldn’t, because then he could get hurt again and it would be all her--

Ah, there her mind goes again.

She wonders if anyone she knows will be awake right now. She doesn’t think Buck and the rest of the 118 are on shift right now, so he must be asleep, and Josh is on shift, but that just means her phone calls aren’t the ones he needs to be answering.

It’s lonely, sometimes, drowning in her own mind. She thinks that when Chimney is resting should be the times where she rests and relaxes, too, but it’s hard. It’s hard to just enjoy the good without worrying about when things will be bad again, because that’s just given. It’s great when Chimney is feeling okay-ish, but it’s the farthest thing permanent right now.

And it sucks. It sucks because she loves him and she doesn’t think she knows a better person. No one deserves this, no one, but it feels so unfair that the kindest, sweetest person she knows is suffering like this, after he’s already been through so much.

Maybe they have that common-- that so much of their lives have been unfair. Maybe that’s part of what draws the two of them together.

“Maddie?”

She jumps, nearly dropping her mug of chamomile onto the kitchen floor.

“Chim, baby, did I wake you?”

“What are you doing up?” he asks with a furrowed brow, yawning a bit.

She shakes her head, far more concerned with why _he_ is now awake.

“Did I wake you?” she asks again, scanning his face for any sign of discomfort.

He shakes his head no, then just raises an eyebrow at her, and she knows he’s waiting for an explanation.

“Just… couldn’t sleep, is all.”

“Any particular reason why?”

“You hush,” she huffs, “I’m the one who’s supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around.”

“I feel fine right now,” he shrugs, and he doesn’t seem like he’s lying but she hates that she feels like she just can’t know for sure, that she can’t trust him not to downplay or outright hide symptoms from her, “I wanna know why I woke up without my girlfriend there.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t looking for an apology,” he rolls his eyes, “just wanna know why. Is something stressing you out? You look stressed.”

“No.”

“Maddie.”

She bites her lip, afraid to open up to him about what’s going on in her head because he’s afraid he’ll interpret it as meaning that _he_ is what’s stressing her out, when it’s not him but the situation itself.

But he’s Chimney, he’s so sweet and sensitive and she’s worried that opening up to him will backfire into just even more of him hiding when something is wrong or he needs help.

“Maddie,” he sighs, and she gets the idea that his train of thought has already made it to the right conclusion by the look on his face, “you can tell me. I won’t take offense to it.”

The thing is, he’s Chimney and she’s pretty sure that he _will_.

“I’m just stressed,” she finally settles on, knowing he’ll wait for an answer all night if he has to, “it’s just… stressful. I’m worried about you, but I don’t want you to feel bad or guilty because it’s not your fault--”

“I get it, and I’m sorry.”

“No, stop, that’s why I didn’t want to… you don’t have to apologize. You don’t NEED to apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong. You can’t help that you’re sick…”

“Are you okay, though? If this is too much--”

“No!” she snaps, and she hates the way Chimney immediately flinches back from her, and how the tears shine in his eyes-- he’d always felt things deeply but the chemo had made him even more sensitive, “I mean, baby, no, you’re not too much, you could never be too much… I-I don’t want you to feel bad, you’re not too much and I’m not moving out if that’s where you’re going with this.”

“I just don’t want--”

“I’m not going.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you to,” he says carefully, putting his hands up in surrender, “I just don’t want you to be so constantly preoccupied with worry about me that you’re not taking care of yourself. You look so tired, Maddie.”

“Gee, thanks, just what every girl wants to hear,” she half-growls, and maybe she’s a little more sensitive, too, but just from the sleep deprivation.

“I just meant--”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she sighs, “I just… I’m going to worry. It’s just going to happen. My boyfriend is so sick, how could I not?”

“I’m not asking you not to worry about me, Maddie, I’m just asking you to direct a little of that worry towards yourself. Your wellbeing matters, too.”

“Yours matters more right now,” she whines, and there he goes rolling his eyes again.

“Okay just… how about we don’t argue about that because I know you’re stubborn and won’t give in even though _I’m_ right, and just agree that we’re both important and maybe go back to bed? I’m tired and I know you are, too.”

“Fine, I guess sleep is okay,” she huffs, gently taking his hand and hers and beginning to lead him down the hallway, “but for the record, I’m right. I am always right, Howard.”


	22. Chapter 22

“You okay, Chim?” Karen asks with a frown, bringing a hand to his shoulder, “you’re being quiet and you’re kind of… squirming.”

“Sorry,” he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut tight, “am I moving around too much? You can have the couch and I’ll--”

“Shut up,” she huffs, “there’s room for the both of us on your couch and I can handle some wiggling, I have a kid. Not to mention the other one on the way that is currently in my uterus.”

“Mmm. Gonna be a mom again,” Chimney murmurs, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he looks up at her from where his head rests on a pillow in her lap.

He had suggested that she should be the one who gets to lie down, given that she’s pregnant and she could have the whole couch and he could simply curl up on the armchair, but Karen had rolled her eyes at that suggestion. They could both fit, she kept saying, and cancer trumps pregnant.

Whatever, he figures it’s not too wise to try and argue very much with a pregnant woman.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Karen hums, “I can tell that you’re uncomfortable but I can’t help you unless you tell me what it is exactly that’s bothering, you know that.”

“Stomach hurts a little,” he admits in a quiet whine, “but not too bad. Have felt a lot worse lately.”

“I bet,” Karen pouts, seemingly in thought for a moment before she’s motioning for him to lift up his head, “okay, let me up for just a second. I’ll be right back.”

“Karen, what are you---”

“I’ll be right back!”

Well, at least no one could say that having Karen as his babysitter while Maddie was at therapy is _boring_.

Therapy that Maddie needs after being abducted by and being forced to kill her abusive ex-husband, after he tried to kill both her and her now current boyfriend, yet is reluctant to go to. Not because she doesn’t think she needs help, or because she doesn’t want to it, or doesn’t want to deal with the painful and traumatic memories.

No, because she’s paranoid about leaving him alone for the under two hours it takes for her to drive there, attend therapy, and then drive back.

Maddie, of course, would object the word “paranoid,” because he has cancer and feels very ill the majority of the time. But he, of course, would still say the word “paranoid” is 100% appropriate because what does she really think is going to happen to him in less than two hours?

And Maddie, of course, would list about ten possible yet rather unlikely situations she’d seen over the course of her nursing career.

He’s given up on trying to get her to relax about being away from him, and just decided to be grateful that she’s agreed to it at all. Usually it would be Bobby or Hen to look after him, but they were both on shift, so the gift of Karen’s wonderful, big, cheerful personality has been bestowed upon him.

(He and Karen being alike is something he has pointed out to Hen no less than twenty-five times, telling her that she has good taste in spouses and best friends.)

He shouldn’t be surprised when she comes back with two steaming cups of suspiciously strong smelling liquid. His sense of smell is starting to weaken from the treatments, but if there’s one smell he’d still be able to recognize anywhere from how frequently it’s been a part of his life as of late, it’s ginger.

“Okay, uh… what the hell?” is the most eloquently and gently that he can think to broach the subject.

“It’s Bobby’s fault, so blame him.”

“Um, still not following.”

“My morning sickness isn’t even that bad,” Karen huffs, leaving it there as if that explains it.

“...Okay?”

“But, I complained about feeling sick one time. ONE TIME. One morning, one time. And Hen mentioned that to Bobby--”

“I thought no one besides me and Maddie knew you were pregnant--”

“They don’t, Hen just said I didn’t feel well one day,” she continues, rolling her eyes, “and Bobby, in all his wretched culinary wisdom, suggested that Hen make her OWN ginger tea for me.”

“Wait, you can do that? You can just… make it yourself? Is that why it smells so fucking strong?”

“Yeah, apparently you can. And you know what? I’m not the only one in my friend group who doesn’t feel too good a lot of the time, so you’re going to suffer through it.”

“Uh, no thank you,” he grumbles, crinkling his nose in his disgust, “wouldn’t drinking something that tastes gross just make me feel… more like throwing up?”

“You’d THINK it would,” she says, animatedly pointing her finger at him, “and it does for like, half a second, but once you get past the first few steps it really starts to help. You suffer first, but then it helps. So you, my dear Chimney, are going to both suffer and be helped with me.”

“Okay, okay, hold up, how do you even make it? What were you doing in my kitchen for the past fifteen minutes? Should I be afraid?”

“All you do is just boil fresh ginger root in water, and then strain it,” she shrugs, as if it’s self explanatory.

“There’s no-- we don’t have-- you brought over ginger root to make me suffer with you?”

“Oh, honey, no. I didn’t bring it over, I just knew it would be here because Bobby mentioned to Hen that he stocked one of your cupboards with some along with the bevy of prepared frozen meals he’s brought you.”

“...You’re kidding me.”

“Wish I was.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “no, Karen, that smells so strong and if it smells that strong to MY nose, then it must be strong as hell and I don’t--”

“Chimney.”

“Karen.”

“It might help,” she pouts, putting the two mugs down on the coffee table in front of the couch, “and besides, if Hen keeps making me drink it…”

“Doesn’t mean I have to.”

“Only a matter of time before she or Maddie forces it on you, might as well experience for the first time with someone doomed to drinking it as well.”

“Don’t want,” he huffs, petulantly, with that childlike sort of indignance.

“Chiiiiiimney,” she singsongs, “it might help your tummy feel better. And if you feel better, then maybe you’ll stop squirming, so then I can relax, so then we can get back to watching Jane the Virgin. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“...Fine. I’ll try it,” he sighs, not because he’s completely sold on her logic but because it’s Karen, and he knows she won’t stop pestering him so he might as well give in now, “just a few sips, and then if I hate it, no more.”

“Fine. We have a deal.”

Chimney gags and nearly spits out the first sip, a display that Karen seems _very_ amused by, laughing as she pats his back.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she giggles, “it’ll help, it just… sucks first.”

“This is gross,” he groans, hesitantly taking two more sips of the liquid he’s convinced that Karen must have made incorrectly, unnecessarily strong and spicy before he puts the mug down, shaking his head, “I’m done, no more.”

“But you gotta--”

“No, you said a few sips and then I could be done.”

“I guess you’re right,” she admits, doing her own best to suppress a gag as she sips at her tea, “but I’ll keep drinking it because I’m tougher than you.”

“Probably true,” he shrugs, placing the throw pillow back in her lap before lying back down, “you’re doing the hard work of growing a child and then bringing it into the world, that’s pretty tough in my eyes.”

“Yeah, you better say that,” she nods approvingly, before she bites her lip and takes a deep breath, “is that something you want someday? To have kids?”

He’s quiet for a moment, not trying to decide if he does or doesn’t because he already _knows_ that, but trying to decide if he wants to share that with her.

“I do, but I doubt it’ll actually happen.”

“And why’s that?” Karen asks, brow furrowed as if what he’s spent hours and hours circulating in his own head makes zero sense to her.

“I’m forty-two, and right now I’m far too sick to be making any babies,” he jokes sadly, closing his eyes at the feeling of Karen’s hand rubbing his arm, “will hopefully be cancer free in a few months, but…”

“...But? I hope you’re not going where you think you are with this because I’m currently pregnant at 40?”

“But you already had a kid first, though.”

“So? Chim, not everyone has their first kid in their twenties or thirties these days.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“And you know… if it’s something that you really want, there are ways to do it on your own when you’re healthy but also… you have a girlfriend. You know that, right?”

“Uh, no Karen, I had no idea,” he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes but with a half-smile on his lips.

“Maddie’s 35, you know. Still might be able to get pregnant naturally for a few years.”

“We haven’t really talked about that stuff, though. All we’ve really talked about is her violent ex-husband and… me being sick. That’s the only deep sort of stuff we’ve talked about.”

“So, talk to her about it,” Karen shrugs.

“No.”

“And why not?”

“Because I feel like I’m already asking too much of her.”

“You don’t think she wants kids?”

“I didn’t say that. It’s just… she’s mentioned to me before that she wanted them, but then Doug was… Doug. And then it wasn’t safe enough.”

“Okay, but you’re not Doug and Doug is dead.”

“I know, it’s just… after everything she’s already doing for me now, by taking care of me, for forgiving me for unknowingly befriending her ex--”

“Not your fault by the way.”

“I just don’t feel like I deserve her already.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Karen, it’s not--”

“You said it yourself, you think she’ll probably want kids, so that’s what she deserves. And she loves you, so she probably wants to have them with you. Not right now, of course, but it’s not like you have to get her pregnant right this very second.”

“Yeah, that would be kind of awkward considering you’re right here.”

“Stop deflecting with jokes, you idiot,” she rolls her eyes, “look, just… for both your own sake and hers, just bring it up one day, okay? Please? You don’t want to miss out on something awesome because of a lack of communication.”

“Fine. I’ll bring it up to her someday. But first… gonna go throw up. That tea didn’t help.”

“You didn’t drink enough of it for it to help!” she calls playfully, but frowning and shaking her head as her friend scrambles up from off the couch and rushes down toward the bathroom.

It hurts seeing him like this. It really truly does. She’s not been nearly as sick as he has, and at least she’s getting a baby out of it.

She just hopes that someday, whenever that may be, he’ll get a baby of his own too.


	23. Chapter 23

“Oh, my poor baby,” Maddie coos sadly, kneeling down in front of him with huge, worried eyes scanning over his face, “Karen tells me you’re not feeling too good, hmm? So sorry, I shouldn’t have left you.”

“S’fine, not as bad as it looks,” he sighs, not blind to the annoyance that flashes across her face as soon as the words leave his lips, “only puked once, just still in the bathroom because I’m tired. Didn’t want to get up.”

“Uh, that sounds pretty bad to me,” she says with a huff, shaking her head before bringing her hands to cup his cheeks, “can I help you up, baby? Bed will be much more comfortable for snuggles than the bathroom floor.”

He really doesn’t _want_ to move, he’s exhausted and there’s no guarantee he won’t wind up back on the bathroom floor again that day, but the pout on Maddie’s lips is enough to get him to nod his head. He ignores the ache in his knees when she helps to his feet, not wanting to worry her more than he already has.

“There we go, nice and easy. I’ve got you, Howie. Going to get you all nice and cozy in bed and give you all the snuggles and belly rubs you need.”

“How was therapy?” he asks, hating how heavily his body leans against hers on instinct, despite the fact that he could make it to the bedroom without her assistance if he tried. But he craves her body warmth and her help, even if it makes him feel a little weak to do so.

“Was fine. Should’ve been here with you, though.”

“Maddie,” he sighs, “you can’t be with me literally 24/7.”

“And why not?” she challenges, looking directly into his eyes with a defiant look on her face as she helps him lay down in bed, pausing for a moment before slipping in next to him, snaking her hand under his shirt to rest over his belly, before starting to move it in gentle circles.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, unable to keep from closing his eyes in content for a moment at the contact, “because you have a life, too.”

“And since it’s my life, I get to spend it however I choose to.”

“Which should include some taking care of you and not just me,” he counters, eyelids starting to feel heavy but he fights it, not wanting her to win the argument simply because he winds up falling asleep.

“Whatever,” she huffs, and he can’t help but laugh a little at that, even if he also rolls his eyes.

“I’m okay, Maddie-- relatively, I mean,” he corrects himself, before he can fall back into _that_ particular pitfall, “just was a little queasy for a bit. Feeling better now, I promise. Want you to be able to leave me for a few hours at a time without freaking out.”

“Well… tough,” she sighs, pouting at him again before she brings her pillowed lips to his cheek, then to his nose, and then to his other cheek, “I have separation anxiety, sue me.”

He almost points out how Hen has said the exact same words to him before, but decides against it, as his best friend is still a touchy subject for the two of them. He gets it, he gets that Maddie needs _someone_ to be angry at for the situation, and the universe is too nebulous and general for that, and he’s too sick for her to be able to feel angry at him without feeling like a jerk. He gets it, and he knows that Hen does, too and that she doesn’t even take it personally 95% of the time.

It’s still hard, though. He just wants his two favorite women to get along. They don’t have to be best friends; it would just be nice if they could be in the same room without Maddie glaring at Hen.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Maddie asks carefully, bringing a hand back to his cheek, “are you okay? Did I--”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he shakes his head, “s’nothing. Just zoned out for a minute.”

“If you say so,” she murmurs, not sounding thoroughly convinced but he seems okay-ish at the moment and she’s learned to pick her battles when it comes to pressing him to tell her when she thinks something is wrong.

There’s a semi awkward, tense silence for a few seconds before he decides to bring up another subject he thinks might not go over too well, but probably is a bit better than discussing Hen.

“Bobby and Athena are getting married this weekend, just a casual little ceremony in their backyard.”

“I know,” Maddie murmurs, scrunching up her nose in confusion as she pulls back to look at him, wondering where he’s going with this, “Athena called to let me know the other day, remember?”

“I know, I-I just… Maddie I don’t know if I want to go.”

“...Why not?” Maddie asks quietly, but sighing deeply right after because she has a pretty good idea of why he might not want to attend.

“I’m just… l-like this,” he stammers out, gesturing to himself in frustration when the right explanatory words won’t come to him, “I-I might be having a good day then but I also might not and it’s just… it’s supposed to be this h-happy day for them and when everyone looks at me they just get sad.”

Maddie turns away from him for just a second, trying to blink back the tears before he can see them in her eyes. Truth be told, she has her own reservations about them going, but for different reasons. She just doesn’t want him to push himself too far and she already doesn’t fully trust him to tell her when something is wrong, and she’s worried he wouldn’t want to “ruin” his friends’ wedding by admitting to her that he’s not feeling well.

But still, Bobby is one of his dearest friends and it’s his _wedding_ , and she knows she needs to put her own anxieties aside to encourage him to go despite his insecurities.

“Baby, Bobby loves you, and so does Athena. They want you there, and it’s not going to be a sad day because you’re sick. They’ll be happier with you there then without.”

“I know, I-I mean, maybe I know, I just… it’s selfish.”

“What’s selfish?” she asks, bringing her hand back to his stomach to rub circles in the hope that it comforts him and lets him know that he can tell her anything.

“I look so bad,” he whispers, “I look so sick. They’ll be pictures. I-I don’t want… Maddie, I can’t go. I don’t want to go. Not like this.”

“Howie,” she murmurs carefully, trying to keep her breaking heart from showing on her face, “you don’t look bad. You _are_ sick, and that’s… that’s beyond unfortunate, you already know that, but… everyone loves you. They want you there, no matter what you look like.”

“I’ll ruin it,” he shakes his head, starting to cry and it takes all her strength not to join in with him-- she’ll get her crying out of the way once he’s asleep-- not wanting to further upset him.

“You won’t ruin a thing,” she shakes her head emphatically, “and Howie, you know I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t feel comfortable doing. You know that, Chim.”

She waits for him to nod his head before she continues, grateful that he does.

“Bobby and Athena want you there, so does everyone else,” she says gently, “but of course what’s most important is what’s best for you. But Chim, baby, I’m really worried that you’ll regret it if you’re not there. I know… I know this is all so hard for you, harder than I can even imagine, and I understand why you feel insecure even if I don’t think there’s anything to--”

“Maddie, I-I just can’t. I think it’s best for everyone if I’m not there.”

“I don’t agree with you, and I don’t think anyone else will,” she says carefully, “but of course, whatever you decide, I’ll respect that. Just please… think about it for a few days, okay? Just think it through before you decide, please?”

“O-Okay,” he nods shakily, and she gets the idea that it is going to be _very_ hard to change his mind between today, Tuesday, and Saturday, but she’s really hoping she can.

For both his sake, and for Bobby and Athena’s.


	24. Chapter 24

Chimney is a little confused when he wakes up with warmth on both sides of him, considering when he fell asleep, it was just Maddie tucked into his left side with no one on his right. He yawns, semi reluctantly opening his eyes (knowing the light will make his headache worse) and turning to see who else is lying with him.

“Hello there, sir.”

“Karen?”

“Yeah, it’s me. What, do you have amnesia?”

“No, was wondering why you’re here,” he says with a sleepy, halfheated huff, rolling his eyes, “not that I don’t--”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” she teases, rubbing his shoulder for a moment, “I’m here because a certain someone told me you don’t want to go to Bobby and Athena’s wedding, and we just can’t have that.”

He now turns to his left, a mildly betrayed look on his face.

“Hey, I said that I personally would respect your decision either way,” she points out, a sheepish grin on her face, “didn’t say that anyone that I told would.”

“Not fair,” he sighs, rolling over on his side to avoid facing her, which just makes Maddie laugh because she knows he isn’t actually angry and is just mostly being dramatic for the fun of it.

“Yeah, hi again,” Karen murmurs, an annoyed look on her face, “you’re going to this stupid wedding with me. Well-- I shouldn’t call it stupid, I love Bobby and Athena and I’m happy for them. But you see, the thing is… I can’t drink and I’m not feeling so great because I’m pregnant. Need someone else to be sick and sober there with me.”

“Bobby doesn’t drink,” he tries, shrugging his shoulder that is not against the mattress.

“That’s different. He’s the groom, not the guest. And besides, he never drinks. You and I usually do.”

“What, since you’re not going to have that good of a time, someone else has to suffer on with you?”

“Yes,” she says matter-of-factly, a small pout on her lips and Chimney rolls his eyes again yet can’t help but laugh in response, “it’s gonna be hot, you know? Which is only gonna make me feel a little ickier, and you can’t just leave me alone to be the only icky one there…”

“Kaaaaaren,” he groans, “you’re not being fair.”

And really, she isn’t and she knows it. She’s preying on Chimney’s wealth of compassion and hard time saying no to his friends. But really, while she does want him there for the reasons she’s giving him, she also knows that he’ll regret it if he doesn’t attend the wedding. Maybe not immediately, maybe even not until he’s healthy and strong again, but eventually he will, and as his very stubborn friend, she cannot let that happen.

“I am so being fair,” she lies, sticking her tongue out at him for a moment, “and besides, as soon as the vows are over, we can go hide in the air conditioned guest bedroom, because the vows are the only important part so if we’re there for that, the rest doesn’t matter.”

“I think the rest matters,” he snorts, looking at his friend incredulously.

“Okay, maybe it matters, just not as much. Come on, you’re going to let me hide in the guest bedroom all by myself? I’ll get lonely, Chimney.”

“Karen.”

“Chimney.”

It essentially boils down to a staring contest, both of them looking at each other stubbornly and waiting for the other to relent. They both know Karen will win, because she’s far more stubborn than Chimney and because Chimney sucks at saying no to things.

He still lasts about thirty seconds anyway, though.

“Fine,” he sighs, “fine. But you owe me one.”

“And you owe me one for getting you to agree not to miss out on one of the best days of our friends' lives, so that cancels out me owing you one and now we’re even.”

“Is that how it works?”

“That’s how math works, yeah. Aren’t you a paramedic?”

“There’s no math section on the paramedic test, Karen,” he says with yet another eye roll, but his lips are curving upward.

“Yeah, but I’d assume that critical reasoning is a part of it.”

“Hate you.”

“Hate you more,” she grins, reaching out to rub his shoulder again.

Maddie just smiles to herself proudly, having known that Karen would be just what she needed to secure Chimney’s agreement to go. Sure, maybe she went back on her statement that she’d respect his decision A LITTLE bit, but it’s worth Chimney not missing out on Bobby and Athena’s wedding because of his insecurity.

She just wishes he could see himself the way she sees him, the way everyone else but himself sees him. Sure, they all see his lack of hair, the pale tinge to his skin, and the bags under his eyes that are starting to look more like bruises, but they all know how to see past that.

They see the glimmer in his eyes when he knows he’s saying something that’s going to make everyone laugh, they see the way he still cares for others even when he’s feeling absolutely terrible himself, they see the way he still finds a way to smile once or twice even on his worst days…

She wishes he could see it, too, that even though he looks and feels different, he’s still the Chimney they all know and love and they would rather have him with them as he is than have him hide out of fear that he’s not good enough to be present in his current state.

It’s as if Karen is reading her mind, essentially, given the next words she says out loud.

“You’re such a good friend, Chimney,” she murmurs, bringing a gentle finger to bop him on the nose.

“Karen,” he chuckles, “what was that for?”

“Just thinking. Lucky to have you, and so are Denny and the little one in my stomach.”

“Mmm. You’re ten weeks, right?”

“Yep, so in a few short weeks we can finally start telling everyone else.”

“Exciting. Do you have a feeling either way, boy or girl?”

“Hen SWEARS we’re having another little boy, but I don’t really have a hunch either way.”

“I vote girl,” Maddie interjects.

“You’re just saying that because you hate my wife,” Karen laughs, “not going to trust your input on this. What do you think, Chimney?”

“Mmm, you’re such good parents to Denny that another little boy would be great… but you’d do great with a little girl, too. Hm. I say girl but I’m biased because I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

He freezes once he realizes what he’s said, admitting that he wants children in the future when he and Maddie haven’t even discussed that yet, but Maddie is nudging and pawing at his shoulder and until he rolls back over onto his other side to face her.

“You want a daughter?” Maddie asks, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly, his cheeks having a little bit of color, “but of course I’d be happy with a son, too, especially since you can’t really choose. You get what you get.”

“I’ve always hoped to have a little girl, too,” Maddie admits, and neither of them are facing her, but if they were they’d see the gigantic grin on Karen’s face.

“But you know…” Chimney trails off, sighing wistfully, “we’re a ways out from that, Maddie. I’m too sick for--”

“Hush, we haven’t even been together that long. I can wait,” she cuts him off, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, “and remember what I said a few weeks? I only want or need what you can give me. And you on your own are more than enough.”

“How did I get so lucky?” he asks, awe struck as he brings his fingers to brush against his cheek.

“Well, Buck had a sister who decided to move to LA,” Karen answers for them, belly laughing when both Maddie and Chimney groan in synchronization, “what? You two forget I was here?”

“You’re ruining the moment, Karen,” Chimney huffs, but he’s laughing too, and so is Maddie.

Things are far from perfect-- Chimney is so ill and Maddie and Hen being in the same room has mixed results and Bobby is still angry at him for hiding that he had cancer-- but in that moment, as Chimney laughs with his girlfriend who he now knows wants to have children with him, and laughs with one of his dearest friends who is here to support him through thick and thin, it’s hard not to feel content.

And maybe for the first time in a long while, hopeful.


	25. Chapter 25

Maddie looks beautiful. Not that he’s surprised-- she always looks beautiful, no matter what she’s wearing or how much makeup she is or isn’t wearing. But the past few weeks that they’ve been together have been a blur of lounging around the house or popping over to a doctor’s appointment, her generally wearing clothes she wouldn’t mind getting vomit on.

Point being, Maddie looks absolutely stunning in a loose, flowing purple dress, a full face of makeup, and hair perfectly curled, and he’s never felt less sexy in his adult life.

He wishes he could just enjoy the fact that his girlfriend is every bit as beautiful on the outside as she is on the inside and just be so overwhelmingly grateful that she’s his, and sure, a part of him is there but another part is filled with insecurity and dread. He’s pale, bald, and weak and Maddie is the most stunning woman he’s ever seen. It’s hard not to feel inadequate, no matter how many times Maddie tells him that she still finds him handsome and that how he looks doesn’t really matter, anyway.

And he knows that he feels the same way, of course. Maddie’s extraordinary physical beauty is just an added bonus; he’d love her no matter what she looked like, and he knows he should apply that same logic to himself. It’s just hard, all of this is so hard.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asks with a pout, leaning down to bring her forehead to his as he sits on the edge of their bed, “you’re frowning, and if you’re not feeling good we’ll leave as soon as the vows are over.”

“I feel fine,” he replies, because he does feel relatively okay in the sense that she’s asking.

“Are you sure?” she asks, nudging her nose against his, and his insecurity comes rushing back in because her boobs are about 75% out in that dress and now they’re practically right in his face and she’s so incredibly attractive and the moment should be sexy, but it’s the farthest thing from it because he’s sick and she spends the majority of their days playing babysitter.

“Yeah, yeah, was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“How beautiful you are,” he shrugs, and it’s not even really a lie.

“You’re sweet. I’d kiss you but it’s still a little early in the day to be ruining my lipstick.”

The setup for the ceremony in Bobby and Athena’s backyard is modest yet beautiful, white benches that he has no idea where they came from arranged as faux church pews with a wedding arch that Michael made himself, which strikes him as incredibly kind and generous for the bride’s ex-husband to do for her, even if the married ended because he was gay.

He’d blame the crying he does during the vows on the chemo, and it HAS made him more sensitive and emotional, but really, he’s a sucker for weddings and Bobby is something of a wordsmith, and if anyone deserves romantic happiness after all that he’s been through, it’s Bobby.

(Maddie cries, too, of course, but that’s not surprising because she’s Maddie and her open emotionality is one of the many reasons he loves her.)

Hen is crying, too, which is um… a bit more surprising.

“She’s had a bit to drink,” Karen half laughs, half growns, “maybe a little too much.”

“Ah, I see,” Chimney chuckles, “hi, Hen. You having fun?”

“Lots of fun, I love weddings, even if most of them are really cheesy,” she says bluntly, ever the honest to a fault person she tends to be when she’s been drinking, “I’m just really happy for them, you know? Bobby deserves happiness, and so does Athena, and now she’s finally found a husband who’s not gay.”

“Well, we didn’t think Michael was either…” Karen trails off, waggling her eyebrows before sliding into the chair open on Chimney’s left side, “how are you feeling, fellow not drinking buddy?”

“I’m alright,” he nods, nudging her shoulder with his, “not as hot as I would thought it would. Don’t feel too gross, just tired. How about you?”

“Same as you, but I have a feeling I am going to be even more tired tomorrow looking after my very hungover wife.”

“Fair enough, but I think she deserves to let loose and have some fun,” Chimney sighs, before the familiar guilt sets in.

He loves his friends, and he knows that his friends love him in return. He would do the same for any of them, but still, it’s hard not to feel guilty over their concern and stress and all the time they’re making for him since he became ill. Especially Hen, who has a kid, a wife, and another kid on the way in said wife’s belly…

“You look sad. Why are you sad?” Karen questions him, crinkling up her nose.

“Not sad, tired.”

“Liar.”

“What? Lying? Who’s lying?” Hen asks, bringing her finger to poke Chimney’s chest, “are you lying, Chimney?”

“You’re drunk, Henrietta.”

“Yeah, and so what? You’d probably be too if you could drink.”

“Yeah, probably,” he admits with a snort, “guess you can have enough fun for the both of us.”

“Oooh! The food is out. See you later, I’m hungry,” Hen says excitedly, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek before running and stumbling a bit in the direction of dinner.

“I… don’t hate her as much drunk as I do sober,” Maddie says with a hint of a smile, before she moves her thumb to try and wipe off Hen’s lip gloss from his skin, “but that’s my handsome face to kiss.”

“Maddie--”

But he’s cut off by her lips meeting his nose, then his mouth, then his cheek, then his forehead, then his chin, then his other cheek…

“Madeline,” he laughs, pulling back enough so that she can’t reach his face for a second, “I thought you didn’t want to mess up your lipstick?”

“That was earlier. Can’t keep my hands off you know,” she giggles, sliding herself onto his lap, “so handsome, so sweet. So lucky you’re mine.”

“Are you drunk, too?” he asks, mostly joking because he knows she’s only had one glass of wine and intends to keep it that way so she can look after him later if he’s feeling unwell.

“M’not, you know that,” she huffs, “just love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“You know I think that you’re perfect, right? Now matter what you look like.”

“Maddie…” he trails off, surprised that she’s seemingly able to read his mind.

“I saw the way you were looking at yourself in the mirror before we left the house,” she explains with a frown, “don’t understand how you can’t see you the way that I see you.”

“It’s just… you’re too good to me, really.”

“Don’t deflect,” she whines, leaning forward to kiss his forehead once more, “you’re perfect, okay? You look perfect. You’re so handsome and cute to me no matter what, but that’s what’s least important.”

“Just hard not to feel a little insecure when my girlfriend is the most gorgeous woman alive and I look so… sick.”

“You look great, but… in sickness and in health, right?”

“Bobby and Athena are the ones who just took that oath, Maddie,” he smiles up at her, feeling her grinning against his own lips when she kisses him.

“Well,” she murmurs when she pulls back just enough to meet his eye, “who says we won’t catch up someday? I love you, Howie.”

“And I love you, Madeline.”


	26. Chapter 26

Maddie wakes up with a frown; it’s still dark out, she shouldn’t be awake yet. The frown turns into a face crinkled up in confusion, because according to the clock on the bedside table it’s only 2:30 am, and the space next to her in bed is empty.

The panic sets in near instantly.

He’s out of the bed, and the last time she woke up in the middle of the night to him out of bed, there was a slip in the shower and a dislocated shoulder. How many times has she told him to wake her up when he wakes in the middle of the night and needs her? He’s probably hurt again, or dizzy or sick and needs her and she’s just about to scramble out of bed to find out what sort of emergency he’s having when he plods back in the room and jumps, clearly having not expected her to be awake and sat up in bed.

“Maddie? You scared me.”

“What are you doing out of bed?” she asks, but it comes out as an accusation instead of a question.

He opens his mouth to answer, but she doesn’t give him the chance to give her an excuse.

“We’ve been over this, if you’re not feeling well in the middle of the night, you need to wake me. Remember what happened last time? Scared me half to death, was expecting you to be hurt again and-- why are you out of bed? Do you feel--”

“Maddie!” he cuts her off with a shout, not wanting to startle her but not knowing how else to get her attention, “Maddie, I just had to pee. That’s why I was out of bed. I woke up to pee-- literally that’s it.”

“Wait… what?”

“I just had to pee,” he repeats, “probably all that water you made me drink today at the wedding.”

“Was hot, in the sun, needed to keep you hydrated… you’re okay?” she asks, this time it comes out more of as a whimper.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he nods, coming forward to crawl back into bed, “was just using the bathroom, Maddie. Do I have to wake you up everytime I get out of bed to pee now?”

He’s joking, clearly, but she still nods her head emphatically anyway.

“Maddie.”

“Howard,” she pouts, pulling him against her so fully that he’s lying about 80% on top of her, “weren’t in bed, was scared.”

“Maddie, that can’t be comfortable for you,” he chuckles, trying to roll off her but she’s holding him tight to her.

“Of course it’s comfortable. Your snuggles are the most comfortable. Just want my poor sick baby close to me.”

“Maddie--”

“Just let me. Wanna cuddle my Howie,” she huffs, and well, a part of him thinks she’s being ridiculous because there’s no way him lying on top of her like that can even be in the vicinity of comfortable, but he knows he’s not winning this one so he gives in and settles his head down on her chest.

“Like your cuddles, too,” he sighs contentedly, feeling the warmth of his body helping to make him feel a little less cold, “sorry I scared you.”

“Not your fault,” she hums, “just jumped to the wrong conclusions.”

“M’okay, Maddie. I feel okay, I promise. Someone just made me drink way too much water.”

“Was the right thing to do. Would know. I was a nurse.”

“Oh, really? You hardly mention that fact these days,” he teases, and she can feel his breath tickling her neck.

“Meanie,” she wines goodnaturedly, rubbing his back, “so very mean to your very nice girlfriend.”

“She is very nice,” he agrees, “the nicest. Takes such good care of me and I am so, so grateful for you.”

“Right where I need to be,” she murmurs, because it’s true-- from the moment Hen blurted out that he was sick in the firehouse. She knew she needed to be with him and had run right home after she finished sobbing to pack up her stuff. 

She just wishes she could have been there from the start, as much as a part of her knows her grudge against Hen for helping keep his cancer a secret is illogical. He had put her between a rock and a hard place.

(She still hates her, though, because she needs to be mad at SOMEONE about Howie being so sick and her not knowing right from the beginning.)

“Maddie? What are you thinking so hard about?”

“Can I ask you something?” she whispers, not wanting to upset him but needing answers because her mind is only satisfying her curiosity with dozens of the most depressingly imaginable scenarios.

“Yeah, of course. Anything.”

“What was it like… those weeks when you knew you were sick? Before I knew? Just… what was it like? I think about that a lot.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, and she’s worried she’s asked the wrong question but he must feel the way her body tenses up because he’s quick to reassure her.

“No, no, it’s okay. Just trying to think of how to answer that question. It was… a weird time. Overwhelming.”

“You don’t have to--”

“What do you want to know specifically? Kinda of a broad question and I don’t know where to start.”

“Were you scared? Sorry, that’s-- how scared were you?”

“Very,” he sighs, rubbing his thumb over her shoulder, “for a while I had no idea anything was wrong, but once I realized what was potentially going on, I just knew. I just knew it in my bones for weeks before it was actually confirmed. I wasn’t surprised when I was officially diagnosed and… poor Hen took it harder because she only knew that I was maybe sick for about a day before she found out I was definitely sick.”

“She only knew for a day?” Maddie asks, because they’ve never really talked about it-- probably because Chimney only mentions Hen to her if he absolutely has to-- and she just sort of assumed that Hen knew the second he suspected that anything was wrong.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “not my proudest moment, probably wasn’t fair but… originally I wasn’t going to say anything to her until after I was officially diagnosed.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I just remembered the day my mom got diagnosed. Remember it was like she just froze up and how I had to remember a lot of what was said to her because she just… checked out. Can’t really say I blame her, hearing that you have cancer is quite the shock to the system.”

“So you figured you might need someone there in case you froze up, too.”

“Right,” he nods, “and I did check out a bit but… I had done all my crying in the weeks leading up to my diagnosis. I’d already accepted it, really. Hen was the one who cried when we got back to my place. Tried to say she was sorry because she was making it about her, but she wasn’t. She just… she’s my best friend. I would’ve cried too if it were the other way around.”

“I can’t blame her for that,” Maddie says quietly, because Hen certainly isn’t her favorite person and they both know that, but she sobbed for about an hour straight after she found out Chimney had cancer, so she can’t blame the other woman for that.

“She was sad, I just sort of went straight to scared. I knew my chances-- I know my chances are good. That wasn’t what I was worried about, exactly. I just… I watched my mom go through chemo. I knew secondhand how terrible it was and I wasn’t excited to get to know it firsthand. It’s… I watched her suffer and knew that would be me. It was terrifying. Still is.”

“I know, baby, but you’re so brave,” she whispers, eyes starting to feel wet, “more brave than I could ever imagine myself being if I were in your shoes.”

“No, you’re plenty brave,” he shakes his head, and she wants to push back that she is but she didn’t have to watch someone die of cancer and then contract it herself, but he seems like he wants to keep talking and she doesn’t want to interrupt that, “my first chemo wasn’t as terrible as the one you were just with me for. I slept through most of it and didn’t start throwing up until after it was over, and it wasn’t as bad as it is now. A-and Hen stayed with me all night… I know you don’t like her but she took really good care of me. I just… I know you hate her but I need to know that you know I was well taken care of, okay? Please.”

“I-I know, Howie,” she replies, rubbing his back some more, “I know, baby. I don’t like her but I know she’s a paramedic and that she loves you and I see how good she looks after you when she’s over at our apartment.”

“Her and Karen were godsends, still are, just like you, too. I-I was so scared to start chemo and even though they both had jobs and a kid they both made as much time for me as they possibly could. Felt s-so loved. Karen would watch trashy TV with me to help distract me when I wasn’t feeling too good and Hen let me snuggle h-her even though she’s not a snuggly person and probably hates it when I do that. But she just wanted to help. They took such, such good care of me, Maddie.”

“I-I know that, Chim, I know. I just wish I had known when they did so I could’ve been helping to take care of you then, too.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Maddie.”

“What’s done is done, right?” she hums, even though she still feels guilty, guilty that she wasn’t there when he needed her. She knows it’s illogical, because there’s no way she could’ve known because she wasn’t told and they weren’t seeing each other at all so she couldn’t have noticed anything was wrong, but she still feels just so guilty. Her Howie had been sick and scared and suffering and she had been going around just living her life, not knowing that anything was wrong.

“I love you. Thank you for being here now.”

“Of course. Here as long as you need me, and then a long while after that. Maybe even the rest of time if you’re lucky.”

“Mmm. Hope I’m lucky.”

“I have a feeling you might be,” she smiles softly, kissing the top of his head, “now sleep, Chimney. You need it. I’ll be right here when you wake up. But if I’m not awake, then you gotta wake me, okay?”

“...Even if I just have to pee?”

“Even if you just have to pee.”


	27. Chapter 27

It’s quiet other than Chimney’s soft snoring as he naps leaning against Hen. Now is the part where usually, Hen would either pretend Maddie was not there, or just nod and “okay” whatever rude comment that Maddie might throw her way. Because as much as it sucks to be the one Maddie takes out all her rage on, she understands. It’s not even personal most of the time so she can handle it.

Usually, she can.

She’s had an exponentially terrible day.

Her pregnant wife had burst into tears and called her “mean” for simply trying to get her and Denny out of the door on time so they wouldn’t be late, Denny had an attitude for some forsaken reason, and her day at work had been even worse than her morning at home. A patient who should’ve made it didn’t, not because her and Holly did anything wrong but because if the statistic is that 99% of patients will survive a certain condition, 1% of them won’t. And today they had a 1% patient.

Maybe it would have been easier to wrap her head around if the patient wasn’t a mother to a son about her own son’s age.

Then there was another patient who was dead when they got there, and they had to tell his wife that there was nothing they could do, and her scream had been agonizing…

It had been a rough day. And Holly is kind and good at her job, really she is, but she’s used to having Chimney, her best friend, there to brave the bad days with her. Holly’s a friend now but they don’t have the relationship her and Chim have and she just can’t talk to her the same way she would her best friend.

And the reason her best friend isn’t there with her at work is because he’s sick and miserable and it’s all so unfair, because after being a victim of attempted murder not too long before, didn’t he deserve a break?

She supposes that logically, he probably was already sick when he got stabbed as there’s no blood test the hospital would run that would’ve picked up on the lymphoma, and she’s not sure if him already (likely) having cancer when he got stabbed makes it better or worse.

She’s pissed, and normally she would just let the way Maddie is glaring daggers at her go, but today she just can’t.

“You know that being a bitch to me isn’t helping anyone, right?”

She regrets the words the second they’re out of her mouth, but it’s too late. Maddie clearly wants a fight, and she can’t blame her. If anyone can understand the pent up tension Maddie is feeling, it’s her.

So she just wishes they could be on the same side of things.

“Excuse me? Are you really going to call your best friend’s girlfriend a bitch after you--”

“Yes, yes, I hid the cancer diagnosis from everyone!” she whisper shouts, waving her hands in the air in desperation because she’s already apologized for this to several different people about thirty times, and she’s not in a good enough mood to do it again, “because he asked me to. And I know it’s hard to be mad at him because he’s sick, I know, but that doesn’t mean I can be your own personal punching bag.”

“So just because he asked you to do it, it’s okay? He was sick and scared for weeks without me or anyone but you and Karen knowing, and if you really cared about him--”

“Don’t finish that thought,” Hen spits, “I know you don’t understand why I did what I did, but don’t you dare insinuate that--”

“Oh, I’m not insinuating anything, I’m saying it point blank,” Maddie spits back, “a real best friend would have done the right thing, the right thing for him even if it was hard. I mean, Jesus, Hen, you couldn’t have had a little courage? Clearly having me and everyone else involved is what’s best for him.”

“You’re just pissed because he told me and not you.”

Well, she knows there’s no turning the conversation around to a more civil direction after that one.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Hen doubles down, because she’s a masochist, apparently.

“I’m not jealous of anything… he and I weren’t even talking at the time…”

“So you can understand why he didn’t tell you, but not why I didn’t? The logic just magically escapes you there?”

“Why are you being such a bitch to me? I’m his girlfriend, I’m the one here every damn day taking care of him, taking him to all his appointments and--”

“Because you can! I have a wife and a kid and another kid on the way in said wife’s belly. I would love to be here more often, Maddie, I really wish I could but we both know what adult responsibilities are.”

Maddie huffs, crossing her arms over her chest tightly and for a moment there it seems like she’s considering storming off into the other room and Hen starts to get her hopes up just as the other woman shakes her head furiously and then opens her mouth again.

“I just don’t understand what you want from me. I love him and you hid that he was sick from me. I don’t understand how you expect me to forget that.”

“Because I’m not fucking expecting you to forget, Maddie!” Hen says, before quickly lowering her voice because the last thing Chimney needs right then is to wake up and witness this mess, “I don’t care if you forget, I don’t even care if you never like me, but a little understanding and respect would be nice. I’m his best friend. And one of the kindest things you could do for him is act civil to me. Don’t you think he’s going to get tired of you snapping at me all the time?”

“Maybe he will,” Maddie concedes, huffing again, “but that doesn’t change the fact that you did what you did.”

“You have no right to judge me,” Hen says flatly, biting down on her lip, “you have no idea what it’s like to be asked something like that… and yeah, maybe I did make the wrong choice, but it’s a hell of a lot easier for you to get up on your high horse and vilify me for it then be walking around in those shoes yourself.”

“But why? What good did you possibly expect to come from helping him shut everyone out in his time of need? It’s just so stupid.”

“Stupid? Well if you think I’m stupid, you must think he is, too, because it was all his idea.”

“He’s traumatized from his mother’s cancer and was scared. He had just got his own cancer diagnosis and wasn’t thinking clearly. It was up to YOU to do the right thing and--”

“You know what? I’m done with this,” Hen growls, gently shifting Chimney from being in her arms to being in Maddie’s, “I’m not going to sit here and let you lay into me because you’re mad at the universe or whatever. I get it, I do, but I have feelings, too. If you never want to forgive me? Fine. I don’t care. But let me know when you’re ready to treat me like a grown up.”

“You said you’d be here when he woke up,” Maddie points out, starting to panic a bit as Hen grabs her purse off the kitchen table.

“Well that’s on you to explain to him, not me.”

“Hen, no, you can’t--”

But apparently she can, because she’s already gone.


	28. Chapter 28

It’s 2:30 am when Maddie finally swallows her pride and texts Hen, hoping that she’s awake and begging her to come back.

Chimney hasn’t asked for her specifically, but he was so crushed when he woke up from his nap earlier without her there, and he’s so physically miserable at the moment that she’ll do anything to make her feel better, even if that means confronting all her embarrassment for the way she’s treated his best friend as of late.

Chimney is beyond miserable-- to the point that the word feels like an understatement. It’s the day after chemo, or she supposes, now technically the second day after chemo, and he’s sick and in pain and exhausted but too uncomfortable to sleep. It’s killing her to see him this way, and that’s why he wanted Hen there with them the day before, he’s so miserable that he very reasonably wanted the comfort of both his girlfriend and his best friend.

She hears the lock turning and audibly sighs in relief, and Chimney looks up at her with tired, watery eyes. He knows there’s both only one other person besides the two of them with a key to their apartment, and only one person who would show up for him at 3 am.

“H-Hen?” he whimpers weakly, his voice cracked and strained from vomiting about once every half hour.

“Yes, baby, Hen.”

“Chim?” Hen calls a moment later, knocking lightly on the door before making her way into the bedroom where he sits leaning up against the bedframe with Maddie sitting next to him, “how are you feeling, sweet boy? Maddie tells me not so good.”

“Hen? C-Came back.”

“Of course I did, Chim. I shouldn’t have left in the first place, I’m sorry.”

“Come here,” he whines tearfully, and Hen is quick to comply, practically scrambling onto the bed to tuck herself into his other side that Maddie isn’t occupying.

“It’s okay, sweet boy. I’m here now, I’m here. I know I said I’d be there when you woke up earlier and I’m so, so sorry that I wasn’t. Maddie and I are gonna behave like adults from now on, okay? Not gonna let our silly little arguments get in the way of being there for you.”

Hen shoots her a desperate look, begging her without any words to please get on board with that mission statement and she of course nods her head emphatically. She’s ashamed of herself-- she doesn’t completely hate herself for it because she NEEDED to be angry, but she wishes she had realized earlier that using Hen as an outlet for her rage was eventually just going to hurt Chimney, which is the last thing she ever wants to do, and especially not right now.

“That’s right, Howie,” Maddie agrees, “I won’t be mean to Hen anymore, I promise.”

“Promise? N-Not just saying that b-because I’m so sick today?”

“I promise. And Hen, I really am so sorry, I’ve been such a--”

“Water under the bridge,” Hen sighs, shaking her head, more than willing to just put all of it behind them. Maddie’s wrath had hurt her but at the end of the day, she knows it was never personal and doesn’t want to hate her best friend’s girlfriend, “and I’m sorry, too. Shouldn’t have called you a bitch and shouldn’t have stormed out and left you to explain to Chim that I wouldn’t be there.”

“Y-You called Maddie a bitch?”

“Eh, I deserved it.”

At least that gets a weak, weak laugh out of Chimney.

“Now, tell me what isn’t feeling so good, Chim,” Hen hums, leaning her head against his.

“Everything,” he sniffles, “everything, H-Hen. My stomach w-won’t stop making me throw up a-and I have such a bad headache and all my m-muscles hurt and I’m so tired but c-can’t even sleep.”

“Oh, you poor, poor thing,” Hen sighs, biting down on her lip for a few seconds to try and ward off the tears that want to spring in her eyes, “I’m so sorry, Chimney, I’m so sorry that you’re feeling so sick. But I’m here now, okay? And so is Maddie and we’ve got you. I know it might not feel that way now but you’re okay-- you’re nice and safe, I promise. Maddie and I are not going to let a thing happen to you.”

“Promise? F-Feel so bad I’m scared.”

“I promise,” she nods, heartbreaking as she pecks a quick kiss to his cheek, wet with both sweat and tears, “you’re alright, sweet boy.”

“Can I sing to you, Chimney?” Maddie asks after a quiet moment, “would that help?”

“M-maybe,” he whimpers, which Maddie just chooses to take as a yes because she needs to believe something is capable of making even the tiniest bit more comfortable for her own sanity.

She sings right in his ear, choosing “Islands in the Stream,” in hopes that the memory of them singing karaoke together back when they were still just “friends” will make him smile, even the teeniest bit. And it does make him smile, until he gags and she’s grabbing the bucket off the nightstand for what feels like the twentieth time that night.

“It’s okay,” she says gently, rubbing his back as he gags again, “it’s okay, my love, Hen and I have got you.”

“H-Hate this,” he cries, and both her and Hen wince at the sound of him retching up the little bit of water that he had managed to drink just fifteen minutes before.

“Oh, Chim,” Hen sighs, squeezing him a bit from the side, “I’m so sorry, sweet boy. Maddie and I hate this, too.”

It’s another minute or two before he leans back, squeezing his eyes shut tight as tears continue to leak from them. Hen scurries out of bed to clean out the bucket and get him some more water while Maddie holds him as tightly as she can.

“I love you, Chim,” she whispers, wishing desperately that she could switch their places, to make his suffering her own to spare him from it, “I love you and I know that this sucks doesn’t even begin to describe it, but this isn’t forever. It’s only to get you nice and healthy again and one day this will all be just a terrible memory, I promise.”

“J-Just want to sleep,” he weeps, and she wholeheartedly wishes he could, too to have a reprieve from feeling so horribly.

“I know, I know. Hen and I will do our best to cuddle you to sleep.”

“That we will,” Hen nods, coming back into the room and placing the bucket and glass of water to the side as she climbs back into the bed, “we’re right here, Chimney, not going anywhere. I could even take tomorrow off work to be with you, if you’d like that.”

“Please,” he sniffles, and it breaks her heart because Chimney is Chimney and never wants to inconvenience anyone, and the fact that he’s asking, in a tone of voice close to begging, her to stay home from work the next day to be with him is a testament to just how much he’s suffering.

“Of course. Will stay right here with you and Maddie all day if that’s what you need.”

And really, it’s not Chimney who is relieved that Hen will be around tomorrow. Maddie loves Chimney and she knows there’s no other place she’d rather be, but caring for him when he’s so sick is overwhelming and it’s reassuring to have someone else there to help.

“I have lots of vacation time saved up,” Hen continues, motioning for Chimney and Maddie to lie down with her, “don’t mind spending one of those days on my best friend, not at all.”

“Best friend i-in the whole world,” Chimney whimpers, moderately comforted by the feeling of his two favorite women wrapping their arms around him, “and h-have the best girlfriend. So lucky.”

“We love you,” Maddie coos, “we love you so, so much and we’re going to love each other too from now on, alright? Don’t want you to worry about a single thing, baby.”

“That’s right. Maddie and I are friends now,” Hen murmurs, “don’t have to worry about us not getting along anymore. Everything is okay now, honey.”

“Mmm. Thanks,” he whispers, yawning a bit and both Hen and Maddie are desperately hoping that his body will let him get some sleep, and soon, “happy.”

“All we could ever hope for.”

“L-Lucky,” he repeats, yawning again, trying to hold on to the good that’s still in his life in hopes that it will make all the pain just a little more bearable, “two best girls in the whole w-wide world.”


	29. Chapter 29

Chimney sighs in content when he wakes up to the feeling of two warm bodies snuggling into him. Then he feels the headache and unsettled feeling in his stomach and the sensation of all his bones aching and is a little less content, but still, it’s nice to have the comfort of his girlfriend and his best friend at the same time. Thank God they’ve finally made up.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. Well, good afternoon technically,” Hen murmurs, nudging him lightly.

“What time is it?” he yawns, turning to look at Maddie and then frowning at the redness of her eyes, “been crying?”

“It’s a little after one. You didn’t really fall asleep until about 9:30,” she explains, avoiding his second question.

“Hen,” he says after a moment, awake enough for the gears to start turning in his head, “aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I offered to take today off to be with you because you’ve been so sick and you said yes, you don’t remember?” she questions, bringing her hand to his forehead for a moment and feeling relieved when there’s no excess heat coming from it.

“Not really,” he shrugs, “but glad you’re here. But-- is Bobby okay with you skipping work?”

“It’s not skipping when you’re taking care of someone with cancer, and it’s more than okay with him,” a new voice answers, and Chimney jumps a little because he hadn’t noticed that anyone else was in the room.

“Athena?”

“I’m here,” she nods with a half-hearted smile, sitting on the edge of the bed, “Bobby was so worried about you when Hen called out, he knew it had to have been bad if she needed to stay home with you and I just so happened to have today off…”

“He asked you to come?” Chimney whimpers, feeling the all too familiar guilt creeping in.

“Yes, and it’s not a problem at all,” Athena replies matter-of-factly, “been a while since I’ve come and checked on you.”

“But you don’t have to--”

“Hush,” she cuts him off, a finality in her voice that reminds him why she makes such a good police sergeant, “when it comes to company, the more the merrier, correct?”

“...Correct,” he says meekly, a little color in the cheeks from embarrassment at feeling like a little boy being scolded by his teacher at school.

“Can I get you anything?” she offers after a moment, hands curled around a cup of coffee, “Madeline and Henrietta look pretty cozy so I wouldn’t want to make either of them get up.”

“I’m good,” he whispers, putting his head down on Maddie’s shoulder.

“Are you sure?” Maddie asks, biting down on her lip, “you should probably at least try to eat something light, or at the very least get some fluids in you.”

“Not hungry. Or thirsty.”

“Chim,” Hen sighs, “I know you don’t feel good but refusing to eat or drink anything is just going to end up with a hospital visit, and I know you don’t want that.”

“Fine,” he huffs, “but no eating yet. Just tea.”

“On it,” Athena nods, shooting Hen and Maddie a sympathetic smile before walking out of the bedroom.

“I’m sorry you’re still feeling so icky,” Maddie pouts, slipping her hand underneath his shirt to start gently rubbing circles over his stomach, “were so sick last night, was hoping you’d wake up feeling a little better.”

“I am,” he assures her, and it’s genuinely the truth, “don’t feel as bad as I did in the night, just… still feel gross.”

“Poor thing,” she coos, before moving her shoulder so that his head pops up and she can start planting kisses all over his face, giggling when he tries to squirm away.

“Maddie,” he chuckles, “that’s really not necessary.”

“Kisses are the best medicine. Stay still,” she instructs, giving him a few kisses on the nose and quick succession.

It’s hard not to smile, as awful as he feels when Maddie is giving him a kiss attack in an attempt to take his mind off the various unpleasant sensations in his body and Hen is snuggled into his back and whispering words of comfort in his ear. The situation sucks-- an understatement, of course-- but he knows he’s lucky to be so loved and have people who are willing to go above and beyond just to try and help him feel the teeniest bit less terrible.

“I love you guys both so much,” he sighs when Maddie settles back down and resumes giving him a belly rub, “so lucky. Thank you for being here.”

“Where else would we be?” Hen asks flatly, before shifting herself closer to him so he knows she’s just teasing, “you would do the same for either of us.”

“I know, but still. I feel so unlucky these days but then you two are such angels that I have these moments where I’m overwhelmed with how lucky I am at the same time.”

“Do I get to be an angel now, too?” Athena jokes, coming back into the room and carefully placing a mug of tea on the bedside table, “it’s hot, but you need to start drinking in a few minutes because Bobby specifically instructed me to make sure you didn’t get dehydrated.”

“He gave you instructions?” he snorts, “what are the other ones?”

“Oh you know, making sure you take a nap today, making sure you eat something, trying to make sure you smile at least a few times today…”

“I didn’t know I came with an instruction manual,” he teases, trying to cover the fact that he’s getting emotional over just how many people are willing to shower him with love.

“Oh, shut up,” Hen laughs, “it’s sweet. Bobby’s an angel, too.”

“So everyone’s an angel except for me?”

“You can be an angel, too, Athena,” Chimney says with an eye roll, “you all are. Can’t believe how many people I have that want to help.”

“It’s what you deserve, sweet boy,” Hen hums, cupping his chin with one of her hands, “you’re so kind and so good and--”

“Okay, you have to stop before you make me cry,” Chimney shakes his head, but he knows it’s futile and that he can’t hold back the tears for much longer.

“But it’s true,” Maddie insists, and there the tears go falling down his cheeks, “you’re so thoughtful and sweet and you don’t deserve this at all but… if you have to go through it, you’re sure as hell not going to go through it alone.”

“I know,” he sniffles, wiping at his cheeks, “I’ve never felt alone this whole time. And I can’t thank you all enough for that. I obviously wish none of this was happening and that I wasn’t sick but I could never have imagined I’d be so well taken care of like this.”

“Okay, that’s a little offensive,” Hen jokes, nudging his arm lightly with her elbow, “I’m your best friend and I’m also a paramedic.”

“You know what I mean, Henrietta,” he scoffs.

She smiles at him, and he smiles back at her and for a moment he feels nothing but pure happiness despite everything he’s going through.

But it only lasts for a moment.

“You guys, I can’t be here,” Maddie squeaks, scrambling out of bed, “my throat hurts and I think I might be coming down with a fever, I can’t get you sick, Chimney, I-I can’t.”


End file.
